#maybe I will make it through Jodie��s run now

[quizmasterfred]

13 in 'The God Complex'

I saw a Reddit post a while ago asking 'what episode would you like to see a different Doctor tackle', and now it's been ages but i had some thoughts, and can't stop thinking about it, and just desperately need to write them down somewhere so here if you're seeing this: sorry, you've got to deal with my ramblings now.

This could replace ‘Legend of the Sea Devils’ wholesale. It was most people's least favourite centenary special, so hopefully we’re not losing much. OR, if you want to wrangle 4 specials in that year, it comes between ‘Eve of the Daleks’ and LotSD, which I’ll elaborate on later.

Arrival:

13 genuinely intends to follow through with “that moment on the beach where you tell me everything”, directly says as much at the end of EotD. Instead of fobbing it off with “whatever happened to the lost treasure of the Flor de la Mar”, they ARE going to San Munrohvar, which Yaz is ecstatic about.

In the OG God Complex (quick reminder: 11/Amy/Rory originally), it’s Amy’s faith in the Doctor which brings them there, and it’s the same now. Except it’s not just the generic faith of a particularly attached companion, it’s the exact specific moment of Yaz knowing she’s about to get that conversation.

Her faith is both restored, and about to be rewarded. After years of asking, and wondering, and being fobbed off, finally the Doctor is opening up. And right after Yaz’s coming out to Dan? Wow - what if!

They aren’t there because Yaz “has faith in the Doctor”, they’re there now because in the exact moment the TARDIS launched, that faith was higher and more intense that it has ever been.

Dan:

Common complaint is that Dan’s a bit of a blank slate – Diane, Liverpool, nice bloke. Fun moments, but not enough time to really develop as a character. I’m not going to make a spectacular reveal here and give him an amazing arc, but at the very least we have a chance to make that blank-slatedness really work. He takes on Rory’s role in the story:

13’s Room:

We never see 11’s room, only hear the TARDIS’ cloister bell as he looks in. The implication, of course, is that he’s afraid of dying – permanently. Trenzalore, no more regenerations. Very nice and subtle for 11’s arc/personality – the old man disguising himself as a 20-something.

13 has a very different problem: she’s the Timeless Child, she’s been alive for potentially a billion years before her memories begin, and she’s still regenerating. 11 is afraid of regenerations running out; 13 is afraid they’ll never run out.

It’s harder to convey my idea here with just a noise, not showing the inside of the room itself, so I will describe what I imagine the room to look like, but if there’s a way to do this without showing the viewer, that’d obviously be great.

Her room is a field of graves: “Susan Foreman”, “Sarah-Jane Smith”, “Alastair Lethbridge-Stewart”, “Donna Noble”, “Amy + Rory Williams” (an exact copy of the grave from ‘The Angels take Manhattan’), “Clara Oswald”, River('s Screwdriver/Neural Relay sitting on a Library server?), “Bill Potts”, “Yasmin Khan”, even one written in Gallifreyan (could be inferred to be the Master, but not directly stated). Only a brief look, but enough for someone to pause it and read a bunch of companions’ names.

Many are faded, symbolising a fear that one day she’ll be so old with so many lost loved ones, there simply won’t be room for all of them, and she’ll starting to forget their names and faces. Thousands more we can’t read, the people she’s yet to meet across all her future lives, and they will age and die all the same. In the centre, she’s still there. Alive, young, never dying. Maybe it’s not even Jodie standing there – maybe it’s Ncuti Gatwa, or some completely other actor: ‘generic future self’.

This is the moment of tragedy for her. After her own chat with Dan, the fireworks, seeing Sarah + Nick happy, she had decided to give it a try with Yaz. But seeing this room is what changes that. This is the moment she says to herself:

In OG, this happens immediately after 11 effectively invites Rita to join the crew, but maybe we can swap these around. So 13 sees this, completely psyches herself out of pursuing a relationship with Yaz, knows in her heart that her biggest fear is losing more and more and more people, but seeing Rita being a little bit brilliant again makes 13 invite her along anyway. She can’t help it – a clever little human working their way in, no matter what. Bittersweet.

Speaking of:

Rita:

Another young Muslim woman who’s a little bit brilliant and a little bit too brave? In all of time and space, it’s a bit weird for a bottle episode to have someone who, on the face of it, is basically a carbon copy of our main companion, right? We’ll see.

13 gets along with Rita just as 11 did. Maybe Dan is the butt of the ‘with regret, you’re fired’ joke. Maybe in a moment alone, Dan can crack a line to Rita that ‘she’s got a thing for clever Muslim gals’. But of course, most importantly, Rita and Yaz have a bit of bonding over their shared faith. Rita mentions ‘Jahannam’ in the OG, and we can use that to get some insight to Yaz’s faith. We know she’s practicing-enough to visit a Mosque (mentioned in Rosa), but really we get very little exploration of what Islam truly means to her throughout Chibnall’s run. Give Yaz something personal that isn’t tied to the Doctor, y’know.

Then, the phone call when Rita is about to die. Like 11, 13 tries to talk her into coming back: maybe she can save her, she really wants to save her. She can’t convince Rita, but Yaz takes the phone off of her. Two young women of the same religion have a heart-to-heart about faith and rapture and Jahannam. They both start off thinking Yaz was brought here for the same reason Rita was (and the viewer does too) – stealing their religion from them.

BUT, Rita gradually realises that isn’t true for Yaz. She realises that Yaz’s faith in the Doctor is stronger: “if you come back, the Doctor can save [you/us]”. That brief, shining moment of beauty that Yaz felt when the Doctor confirmed she would follow through on ‘tell[ing] you everything’ was so powerful, it eclipsed her religious faith. Not forever, she hasn’t become an atheist, but the novelty, the cocktail of love, and rewarded patience, and anticipation, and trust – for a tiny moment, it out-shone her other faith, and that’s why the TARDIS was pulled in by the eponymous God Complex.

Maybe Rita says it explicitly, or maybe she doesn’t. Either way, Yaz also realises what Rita has seen, but the Doctor isn’t privy to Rita’s side of the conversation (because… phone). They hang up, turn off the cameras, and Rita dies. If Yaz hadn’t let the Doctor take over her life and heart, could she have saved Rita? Did someone die because she failed as a Muslim? (Obviously the answer is no – that’s not how faith/religion works, and Rita was dead anyway because that is how the minotaur works, but the point is Yaz has a total crisis here)

As with the OG, the very next scene is the Doctor’s ‘I figured it out’ moment.

Yaz is hit with a whole fresh wave of guilt. The whole reason they’re here, the thing that killed Rita – and the Doctor agrees with that assessment (the Doctor couldn’t hear Rita, so this obviously isn’t actually the Doctor saying ‘you’re right, you got her killed’ – the Doctor would never think or say something like that – but that’s what it feels like to Yaz).

Yaz’s Room:

Now this is what’s really beautiful about the change from 11 to 13. Amy and Yaz’s rooms are the same thing. Amy’s is a little girl waiting by a window for her Raggedy Man to come back; abandoned. Yaz’s is a young woman in a basic white TARDIS console room, surrounded by sticky notes and sheets of paper, after hundreds of failed attempts to make it fly, waiting for the Doctor to come back from Gallifrey; abandoned.

[Quick side-note: the moment between Amy and Gibbis where she says ‘I thought that room was for me’ about the Weeping Angels still works for Yaz. In her only meeting with the Angels, what was the result? They took the Doctor away from her for 3 years]

11’s speech to Amy, tearing down the image of him in her head – saving her life by pretending he can’t – absolutely stunning. But 13 has even more to work with here: Amy/Rory, Clara (died because she became too much like the Doctor – hello Yaz), River. The added tragedy of breaking not just a friend, but someone who is actively in love with her and who she shares those feelings for, and the only way to save Yaz’s life is to shatter those feelings.

AND: Bill. "Remember that man who tried to kill you, Graham, and Ryan in a plane crash the instant he met you? The man who tried to kill us all on Gallifrey, and is ultimately the reason I left you, vanishing for 10 months? The man you’re most afraid of, of every villain we’ve met together? I TRIED TO HELP HIM. I put his redemption above Bill and Nardole’s safety because ‘[he’s] the only one person that I’ve ever met who’s even remotely like me’ (direct quote, btw(!) – ‘World Enough and Time’), and it got her mercilessly killed and converted. That’s the sort of person I am, and now I’m about to get you killed too."

Falling Action:

Because Yaz is a little bit brilliant, and coming into her own as “becoming like the Doctor”, like Clara did, she later works out that the speech in her room was ‘the plan all along^TM’ to get rid of the minotaur, and starts to patch herself up by telling herself that the Doctor didn’t really mean not to trust her. So Yaz presses, once again, asking for the Doctor to tell her something about herself.

The Doctor, of course, actually was being genuine, because her own room – the field of graves – scared her that much. 11 rebuffs Amy’s question, continuing with his exposition about the prison. 13 does the same to Yaz. The episode started with Yaz being elated that the Doctor would finally open up, and ends with 13 reverting back to closed-off, and refusing to answer a personal question. Because 13 saw what was in her room, and decided, against everything they both wanted 45 minutes ago, that she can’t fix herself.  So back in the box it goes.

Then:

From 11’s perspective, this could be perceived as bittersweet. He’s still afraid of death, but at least there’s someone here and now commiserating with him. Maybe it would be a gift, and maybe he can accept it in time, and go to Trenzalore in peace. But for 13, it’s just bitter. 'Yes, it would be a gift – if only I could ever have it. But at least I can grant it to you.'

We can either do the beach scene now, ‘can’t fix myself’…

(and then in my ideal world, alter Power of the Doctor to give us a slightly happier end / opening up / explaining 13's hotel room / Thasmin kiss, because god knows us gays need someone to throw us a bone – but that’s not important right now, not relevant to 13!GodComplex)

Or this is where the Doctor goes ‘let’s fuck about looking for the Flor de la Mar’, cue LotSD. Again we see the contrast between her genuine intent to be honest with Yaz 45 minutes ago vs fobbing it off now. Yaz’s heart is broken for real, just after she managed to convince herself that the Doctor’s speech in the hotel room was all a trick.

I can't stop thinking about it, because Doctor Who has consumed my every waking moment for the last 2 months...

[willfrominternet]

Friends and relatives, I've finished "The Giggle" and now I've got thoughts about the future of Doctor Who, the Christmas special, the 15/Ruby relationship, and the next season in general:

We are indeed getting a fun Doctor. Baggage? Nah. Trauma? Nahhhh. This Doctor goes to the club. This Doctor's got a kick-ass sonic. This Doctor is fit and they know it. Ncuti Gatwa is going to FEAST.

I still think Ruby's going to begin as quite a conservative character who wants to break out of her shell, and throughout the season, the Doctor will help her through her past trauma of being abandoned as a baby and everything that's happened since.

However, the relationship between the Doctor and Ruby will be like besties, even more so than the Doctor and Donna. Since it's now canon that the Doctor sees Donna as their sister, they'll see Ruby as a true friend, and will most likely pop their head out of the TARDIS and go "Get in, loser, we're going shopping."

I see us getting a Tennant cameo as soon as the Christmas special, with the Doctor giving Ruby a lesson on choosing your family. Maybe Catherine Tate will make an appearance. This was one of the best things about the first RTD era: It brought back old faces time and again. With the return of Bonnie Langford to the main series, we should expect to see more familiar faces, even if they're not the old favorites. (Justice for Mel, though. And I think we're due for another Martha Jones story...)

Every era of Doctor Who has a theme, even if it's murky. I could argue that Matt Smith's era was all about futility, but it's harder to explain Peter Capaldi's or Jodie Whittaker's eras in less than three words. However, with Tennant's second run being all about settling down, I think Gatwa's era will be all about self-discovery and self-esteem. The Doctor's seemed like too tragic of a figure for too long. It's time for them to shine, and moreover, it's time for their colleagues to shine as well.

(And we heard Donna poo-poo the use of the word "companion" in "The Giggle". Does this mean a change to the lexicon of the show is coming? I like the term "colleague" better, since it puts the Doctor's co-traveler(s) on a level playing field.)

I see the next season(s) bringing the camp back to Doctor Who, but this time with Disney money. Hopefully the writing's up to par; even the most fantastic visual effects in the world and the most ridiculous storylines can't hang if the overall wordsmithing doesn't grab the audience. That's where Doctor Who has suffered the most over its last several years, and where it fell apart in the Classic Era. I pray Ncuti's era doesn't suffer from the same fate.

In any case, I have full faith that this new season of the show will reboot the franchise in a big way for a new generation, all while playing around with the show's messy and archaic lore in a big way.

Case in point: We're so fucking back.

[lezzybeaverman]

Songs of Solidarity

I've been working on collecting music to make a playlist to encourage myself and my friends through the insanity of the current political landscape. I'm trying to pull from a wide range- old 60s songs my hippy parents raised me on, alternative rock I listened to as a rebellious teen, new stuff I'm just getting into, showtunes, even some of my beloved comedy musicians. There's so many repeated themes and motifs, which I guess makes sense- the quest for a better world is so very intrinsic to us, and progress comes in waves, so we have to keep reminding ourselves of what we're fighting for.

I am always weird (shy/nervous/feel like it's pointless) about posting, but I think this might be a thing that other people would like to see. So here's a little taste of what I've been listening to (with youtube links and a little information [or possibly way too much information if you don't like parentheticals {which obviously I do}] about each)- today's songs are Revolution by The Beatles, Liberation by Muse, and Rise Up by Audra Day.

Revolution is obviously one of the Big Ones. I doubt I need to explain the importance or popularity of The Beatles globally, but on a personal level they were one of my favorite bands growing up, and still are to this day. I was a John girl, but am now more of a George fan, although if it's who would I want to hang out with the most, I gotta go with my stoner bro Ringo- sorry Paul, no offense. You're still my mom's favorite (she thinks you're cute). All three of my parents were actually huge Beatles fans, so I was destined to listen to them all the time as a kid, and luckily I loved their music. Like many people, I prefer the harder, rockier single version of the song Revolution over the version on the white album with the doo-wops. When it was released, they came in for some criticism for what some felt was a wishy-washy take on revolution, but I think the internal conflict between a desire for a better world and a hope to avoid violence is part of what makes it a lasting classic (along with the reassurance that it'll be alright).

Muse has a lot of political/protest songs that I enjoy, but this particular number has an optimism to it that I think pairs well with Revolution. Inspired largely by the Black Lives Matter movement, it reflects the writer (lead singer Matt Bellamy)'s hope for systemic change to American politics to make them more truly democratic- something that now feels more important than ever. It also has a heavily Queen-influenced feel that I love, with dramatic piano flourishes and soaring vocals that make it really fun for me to sing along with, so it's a personal favorite.

Speaking of soaring vocals, you'd be hard pressed to find a more stirring vocal performance than this one by Andra Day. I first heard it on Doctor Who in the episode Rosa, about Rosa Parks (s11, e3) which despite some small flaws is still, I believe, one of the best episodes of the show (also I love Jodie Whittaker and I loved her run of the show even if it wasn't perfect thankyouverymuch) and if I hadn't already been crying (I was, Vinette Robinson's Rosa was incredible), I definitely would have started sobbing then. Andra Day wrote it as "a sort of prayer" in a moment of personal suffering, saying she'd usually have cut some of the more cliché lines, "[b]ut sometimes a good cliché is exactly what you need in a moment of hopelessness." I think maybe that personal crying out is what made it ring so true to so many, and be adopted as a rallying cry for the BLM movement. Like a lot of her music (and her whole aesthetic really, I LOVE her vintage and vintage-inspired fashion) it has an old-school gospel feel that will always move me (yes I did cry listening to it for this post).

[wayward-dreamer]

A Man of Action

Square/s Filled: Intercrural Sex (Kink Bingo), Director!Jensen (AU Bingo)

AO3 Link: Read Here

Pairing: Director!Jensen x Female!Actor!Reader

Word count: 6,516

Rating: Explicit - 18+!

Summary: While directing his episode of Supernatural, Jensen and Y/N, the female guest star of the week, can’t hide their attraction for each other any longer. A little fun in his trailer is nearly over before it starts, but they find ways to keep each other satisfied.

Created for @spnkinkbingo​, @spnaubingo​

Warnings: Swearing, Dirty talk, Smut: Oral Sex (Male and Female receiving), Intercrural sex, ‘Sir’ kink, Implied protected sex in the future.

A/N: My first Jensen one-shot! *cue nervous laughter*... A HUGE thank you to my sister from another mister, my twin @downanddirtydean​ for being beta on this one! I love her to bits and she really helped me get over my lack of confidence in this one-shot. I hope you guys like it! Happy reading and enjoy! :)

Dividers by @talesmaniac89​

Y/N lightly bopped her head along to the slow melody playing from her earphones, as she flicked the page of the book she was reading. Crossing one leg over the other, she steadied the folding tall chair she was sitting on. Glancing up from her book, she smiled as she looked around at the set, waiting for the signal that they were ready to resume.

Y/N watched the crew, hard at work as they fixed lighting, checked the sound and redressed parts of the bunker. Her eyes scanned over the many people who worked tirelessly to make this show, feeling grateful to be even a small part of it herself.

This was her second time on the Supernatural set. She had guest starred in an episode last season, with Kim Rhodes who played Sheriff Jody Mills. Kim had quickly become a great friend, showing the ropes of the set, as did everyone else. She laughed as she remembered messing up her first scene with the stars of the show, Jared and Jensen, and how they quickly reassured her that she didn’t do anything for them to be mad at. They loved to have a laugh as much as the next person and were more often than not the ones who did most of the messing up of takes on purpose.

The first time was quite civil, but considering this was her second episode, Y/N was no longer off limits from the guys’ antics. Jared in particular was a giant goofball, doing everything perfectly on his coverage, and then purposely being bad on hers. Jensen was a little subdued this time around, as he was the director for this episode, but that didn’t mean they hadn’t had any fun.

There was an attraction between them. She felt it from the moment she laid eyes on him when she walked onto the set the year before. He was incredibly kind and absolutely hilarious, and not to mention insanely good-looking. They had talked and laughed about so many things in those 8 days, and she felt herself beginning to feel things for him she probably shouldn’t have. This time around, he may have been directing, but they still talked a lot. He showed her different parts of the stages during lunch breaks, walked her to lunch every day for the last 7 days, and made her feel so welcomed.

Y/N sensed that maybe the attraction wasn’t one sided as she often caught him looking at her, but she couldn’t be too sure and didn’t want to make a fool of herself in case she was wrong in her assumptions.

Y/N smiled as Frida, one of Supernatural’s assistant make-up artists, approached her. Her make-up bag, as well Jensen and Jared’s, were all hanging off of her as she returned a genuine smile to Y/N. She took out her earphones and closed her book, shifting in her chair to face Frida properly.

“Touch up time, already?” she asked, pushing her hair back slightly.

“Yep, we’ll be good to go in about 5,” Frida replied, taking out a brush and running it lightly through some powder. She applied it to Y/N’s face and then worked a little on the touching up the eye make-up. “Looking forward to it?” she added with a laugh.

Y/N cringed, lightly shaking her head. “Dear god, give me strength to get through it.”

“Get through what?” she heard a familiar voice ask.

Y/N’s eyes flicked up to look at Jared as she sat down in his chair, next to her. “To get through your unrelenting need to ruin my coverage.”

Jared laughed, clapping his hands. “It’s just too easy.”

“I know how Misha feels now,” Y/N laughed, closing her eyes as Frida worked on her eyelids.

Frida laughed along with her, nodding. “And Alex too.”

Trish, the head make-up artist, came up behind Frida and took Jared’s bag, getting him ready for the next scene.

“Pretty sure he’s still scarred from that time everyone was out to get him to crack, even Misha,” Trish added, chuckling.

“We’re up and running in 2!” they heard one of the assistant directors call out.

Frida finished up with Y/N as Trish finished touching up Jared’s make-up, allowing Y/N to get up and walk over to the war room set. She walked past crew members and smiled at them, a quick ‘hey’ to each of them as she did. She loved this set more than any other she had worked on. It was only her second time here, but it felt like home, with everyone always welcoming her back with open arms. She didn’t think she would be back a second time, but she was incredibly glad that she was. She loved her character, Lyla, so much and she was over the moon to explore her again.

Y/N felt the butterflies in her stomach erupt as she spied Jensen, in a deep conversation with Bob Singer as they looked over some of the dailies on the screens in front of them. He looked amazing, dressed as Dean in his black t-shirt and blue jeans, the white and black flannel draped over a chair close by. He was frowning but nodding along as Bob explained something to him, his scowl making him look even hotter if that was possible.

Suddenly, Jensen turned and walked towards her, his frown immediately morphing into a genuine smile as he approached her. She felt her heartbeat pick up, but she tried to calm herself down as she turned to face him.

“Okay, so we’re getting your coverage first, then Jared’s. I know he’s meant to go first, but making him wait tends to make him cooperate,” Jensen informed her, laughing lightly.

“Going easy on me, huh?” she joked, smiling up at him.

“A little, but you’ve handled it pretty well so far,” Jensen said, folding his arms across his chest. That gesture had killed her every time he did in the last several days, and this time was no different.

“Meh,” she shrugged, laughing. “I can throw it back at him if and when I need to.”

Jensen gave her nod, smiling with an approving look. “I won’t even try to stop you.”

She laughed as she shook her head, Jensen’s relaxed laughter joining hers.

She cleared her throat as she calmed herself, looking up at him. “Do I look okay, Mr. Director, sir?”

Jensen looked into her eyes, finding himself getting lost in Y/N’s beautiful features. He certainly wasn’t good at hiding his feelings for her, not the first time he met her and definitely not now. She was stunning, but she was also open and generous, kind and a total badass. He really wanted to ask her out and see where things went between them, but considering they were in their last day of filming, and she was more than likely leaving the next day, he knew he had missed his chance.

“You look great,” he told her, honestly and hoping she’d see how he meant it as more than just a director approving of her look for the episode.

Things moved pretty quickly from there, as Jensen left to sit behind the screens at video village, the cameras turned on and framed Y/N in the shot with the rest of the war room behind her, Jared stood to the side making sure to hit the mark and be in her right eye line. Everyone buzzed around them before José came in with the tail slate and called the take.

“Action!” they heard Jensen call out.

Y/N instantly fell into character, looking at Jared as ‘Sam’ and smiling. “How does Dean feel about this?”

Jared didn’t move considering the camera wasn’t on him, but he delivered the next line. “It took him a while to get used to the idea of Jack, but he got there eventually.”

Y/N nodded, staying in character. “You know what you’re doing, teaching Jack the ropes of this life… that’s amazing.”

Jared scoffed. “It didn’t exactly work though.”

“He’ll come back, Sam. He will. He just has to figure out what’s going on with his powers and he’ll come back to the bunker.” She finished the line but frowned, thinking it over. “Wait, sorry. Is it “come back to the bunker” or something else?”

One of the crew members quickly looked over the sides, and then shook their head. “It’s ‘come back home.’”

“Fuck, okay,” she groaned, annoyed with herself. “Sorry.”

“You’re fine, Y/N. Just take it from the same line,” Jensen reassured her, and she took in the patience in his voice. He was so damn good at this and she felt incredibly safe with him as a director and as an actor. She recalled how many times someone was awful to her just for messing up slightly, and how crappy she felt afterwards. She had never felt that on the Supernatural set, and she was so thankful for that.

“Let’s keep rolling,” Jensen informed everyone. “Y/N, when you’re ready.”

She nodded. Waiting a few seconds, she then continued. “He’ll come back, Sam. He will. He just has to figure out what’s going on with his powers and he’ll come back home.”

“It’s ‘to the bunker’,” Jared said, trying to be serious as he tried to mess her up.

“You’re an ass,” she laughed, shaking her head.

Jared laughed that mad laugh she had actually come to love very quickly, and she joined in. They descended into a fit of giggles, knowing full well it wasn’t that funny, but it somehow got to them anyway.

Jensen watched the screen in front of him, his eyes never leaving Y/N. Her laugh was infectious, and she looked even more beautiful when she did, making his heartbeat wildly in his chest. Knowing he had to break up the laugh fest, regretfully, he stood up from his chair.

“Alright, we’re good on Y/N’s coverage. Let’s move on and then we can break for lunch,” he announced.

The bell sounded as every present crew member hurried around the set, getting set up to shoot Jared’s coverage.

Y/N looked up and saw Jensen glance over at her. He smiled that smile she found herself wanting to see every second of every day, making her feel lightheaded and the butterflies flutter in her stomach again. He truly was a sight to behold and she only hoped that something more came of her time on Supernatural.

They managed to get through Jared’s coverage pretty quickly, Y/N doing off-camera dialogue for him as he had done for her. The bell sounded again, and Jensen called lunch. Everyone walked towards craft services, chatting about different parts of their lives. Jensen was talking with Bob, but after quickly making some decisions, he moved away and walked up to Y/N.

She looked up at Jensen as she felt him next to her, smiling brightly. They walked side by side through the lot, past all the pick-up trucks, SUVs and large trailers that housed the different departments of production. For the last 7 days, this had been a regular occurrence, him walking her to the lunch tent. On the 8th and final day of filming, it was no exception. She could feel the attraction between them, and a part of her hoped that he might ask her out, but she would even settle for a casual hook-up at that point.

“Ah, fuck,” he muttered, as he suddenly stopped short while looking down at his phone. “My phone’s about to die. Mind if we make a quick detour to my trailer so I can charge it up?”

“Lead the way,” she said, smiling as she gestured for him to go ahead. She followed him to his trailer, stepping in behind him.

As he looked around for a charger, she turned to every angle of the trailer, taking it in. It was big and spacious, with a large flat screen and comfortable couch, a bed at the other end and a nice kitchenette, but that was it. There was nothing outlandish and unnecessary in there.

“Nice to know there’s no aquarium in here,” she laughed, folding her arms.

Jensen scoffed a laugh as he shook his head. “Yeah, they really went overboard with that one.”

Finding a charger, he plugged it in and put his phone on charge. He turned to her, arms out as he brought attention to the trailer.

“So, this is it,” he said, his hands coming down and straight into his pockets. “As glamorous as you pictured, right?”

“Oh, much more than I was expecting,” she said, pretending to be serious. They looked at each other and laughed, as she shook her head. “I like it. It certainly doesn’t scream lead of a TV show slash on and off director.”

“What does it scream then?” he asked, looking down at her as she moved closer to him.

“Just a regular guy underneath all that star power,” she replied, her hand coming up and softly grazing his covered bicep.

She looked at him, her eyes never leaving his. It was clear to both of them that there was something between them. The minute she stepped onto set earlier than week, Jensen knew he was done for.

“Can I ask you something?” he wondered, his tongue darting out and licking at his lips, nervously. That little gesture had nearly sent her to her knees so many times that week, and in that moment, she felt like she would if he did it again.

“Shoot,” she told him.

His hand came up and took hers, his fingers intertwining with her delicate ones. “When can I see you again?”

“I don’t know. I’m leaving at noon tomorrow,” she said, moving closer to him and taking in the smell of his cologne.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he whispered, his head dropping forward to rest his forehead against hers. “Tell me I’m not fucking insane, and you feel something for me too.”

“You’re not,” she whispered in return, shaking her head against his. “The only thing fucking insane is that we didn’t do anything the minute we met.”

That was the only in Jensen needed. His hands cupped Y/N’s cheeks and pulled her face up, his lips pressing into hers in a rough but sensual kiss. Her hands roamed his chest, fisting his black t-shirt in her hands, trying to bring him in closer. They pulled away for a brief moment, breathing into each other heavily as they tried to catch their breath. They quickly stripped out of the clothes they were wearing, careful not to tug harshly as they were the costumes they’d have to put back on. Cupping her face again, he smirked as he moved them over to the couch.

“On your knees,” he instructed.

She huffed a laugh as she grinned. “Yes, sir.”

He quickly unbuckled his jeans and pulled them down, sitting back on the couch as she moved down to her knees in front of him. She tugged at his boxers and pulled them down, his hard cock springing free. She gasped as she smiled, her hand slowly wrapping around the shaft.

“Put my cock in your mouth, baby,” he demanded, his hand coming up to her hair and wrapping into it, tugging her closer.

She hummed as she moved closer, her tongue licking a stripe up his shaft. “You gonna direct me, sir?”

He groaned as he bit his lip, smirking. “Yeah, and if it’s anything like it is on set, I know you’ll hit your mark.”

She sucked at the tip of his cock, her tongue circling the head before she moved down, taking his length into her mouth. She bobbed her head, her spit coating his cock as she built up a rhythm.

“Fuck,” he growled. “Your mouth’s so fucking perfect, Y/N.”

She looked up at him, taking him deeper into her mouth.

“Hold still, darlin’,” he muttered in his sudden Texas drawl, his hand gathering her hair into his palm, the other cupping her face.

She stilled her movement, as he began thrusting up into her mouth at a fast pace. His cock hit the back of her throat, causing her to moan each time it did.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, looking down at her. “Look so good with my cock between your lips.”

Her saliva covered his cock, the glugging sound loud as he slipped in and out of her mouth. She looked up at him, her eyes glistening from the pressure of his hard cock against the back of her throat. His hand pressed down on her head, making her take his length into her mouth all the way to the base, holding her in place. She moaned to avoid gagging, thankful she didn’t have a gag reflex. He pulled her up, his cock leaving her mouth with a wet pop, a harsh breath leaving her lips as air came back into her lungs.

“Can’t wait to fuck you,” he said, cupping her face in his hands and bringing her lips to hers.

He lifted her up and carried her to the bed, throwing her down on it. She squealed as she bounced on the mattress, a naughty smile on her face as she looked up at him.

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” she muttered, as her eyes raked over his body.

“I should be saying that about you,” he smirked, getting onto the bed and holding himself up above her.

He leaned down, kissing her passionately, before trailing down her jaw, neck and down to her breasts. His flicked his tongue over her nipple, his hand coming up to roll the other between his fingers.

“Fuck,” she moaned, as his felt his other hand move down her body.

He smirked as he sucked her nipple, feeling the slick between her legs. He released the nub and looked down at her, his fingers running through her folds and finding her clit. She moaned loudly, forgetting where she was for a moment, as she felt his fingers circle the bundle of nerves.

“Shh, baby,” he whispered, as he looked down into her eyes. “Can’t let the crew hear us.”

“Jensen… fuck me,” she whimpered, as she cupped his face.

Taking one of her hands off her face, he pinned it to the bed above her head. A chill ran down her spine as she looked into his eyes, now dark with arousal.

“Say it properly and I will,” he ordered, his voice gravelly and demanding.

She gulped but smiled tentatively. “Please fuck me, sir.”

“Good,” he said, before he leaned down and kissed her lips, once then twice.

They continued their passionate embrace, Y/N’s arms wrapping around Jensen’s neck as one of her hands combed into his short hair at the nape of his neck. Their lips moved against each other’s roughly and sensually, as they became desperate to feel more of each other. He held his cock and ran it along her folds, her wetness slicking his shaft and a clear sign that she was more than ready for him. However, his movements suddenly stopped as an unfair realization came to him.

“Shit,” he muttered, pulling his lips away from hers. He looked down at her as an annoyed expression graced his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked, suddenly worried she had done something wrong.

“I just remembered… I don’t have any condoms,” he replied, grimacing as he held himself up above her. “I don’t do this… well, ever. So, I don’t have anything.”

Her frown matched his. “I’m not on the pill right now, either.”

He nodded, trying to smile reassuringly and hide his disappointment. She knew that he was though, because she was too. She was desperate to feel him against her and inside her.

“I guess we better get to lunch, then,” she muttered softly, pushing herself up on her elbows. Her face was close to his, causing her to lean over and kiss his plump lips, softly.

“I just want to feel you,” he whispered against her lips, leaning in.

“Me too,” she said, in an equally hushed tone before his lips claimed hers again.

An idea suddenly came to him and he just hoped that she would be okay with it.

“Trust me?” he asked, softly as he looked into her eyes.

She smiled up at him, nodding slowly. “Yes, sir.”

He smirked as he helped her lie down on the bed again, bringing her legs up to rest her ankles on his shoulders. He shifted back until he was standing, her behind now on the edge of the bed.

Jensen smirked as his eyes darkened, taking hold of his cock and slapping it over her mound a few times. He moved Y/N’s thighs closer together, until they met around his cock. Slowly, he began to thrust, sliding his cock between her thighs in a gentle and sensual pace. She moaned softly, the new sensation of feeling his shaft against the skin of her inner thighs awakening something within her. He groaned, biting his lip at this new found arousal as he continued to move between her legs.

“How do I feel, sweetheart?” he asked, looking down at her.

“So good,” she moaned, looking at him. His ‘sweetheart’ gave her Dean vibes, which was definitely something she was adding to her list of kinks.

He picked up speed, his thrusts between her legs now a moderate pace. He gripped her thighs tight in his hands, which would no doubt leave bruises that she would get to admire later.

“Fuck,” he growled, his jaw clenching as he felt the pressure around his cock. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

“Shit,” she hissed. A small laugh left her mouth as she shook her head. “If this is anything to go by, I can’t wait for you to fuck me.”

He chuckled as he nodded. “Can’t wait to fuck you either, Y/N. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock, taking me so well.”

“Jensen,” she moaned softly. She remembered to keep quiet in case of wandering ears of crew members.

His hand came up and back down on her thigh, smacking her hard enough to make her yelp and get her attention. He looked at her with his darkened eyes, stern and somewhat frightening, which only aroused her more.

“Last time I checked, I’m still your director,” he groaned, grasping her thighs tight. “Touch yourself.”

She moaned as her hands came up to her breasts, her fingers tweaking her nipples as she looked up at him. He grunted as he watched her, one of hands slipping down between her legs. His fingers found her clit, rubbing them in tight circles around the swollen nub.

“Fuck! Jensen,” she moaned, breathlessly. “Make me cum.”

He chuckled as he shook his head, his fingers slowing down to a torturous pace. “Not yet, baby.”

“Please,” she begged, her chest heaving with her shallow breaths.

“You have to ask better than that, Y/N,” he informed her, the smirk still on his face.

“Please,” she whimpered. She moved one of her hands down, trying to touch her clit but he smacked it away, not giving up the control he had in that moment. “Please, sir… please make me cum.”

“Let’s make a deal, baby,” he suggested, an eyebrow raised as he continued to thrust between her thighs. He groaned, knowing he was close to his own release. “Make me cum first between these perfect thighs, and I’ll let you cum… all over my face.”

She moaned loudly, nodding frantically. The idea of his mouth on her where she wanted him most was too much to bear.

Pressing her thighs together firmly, Jensen’s thrusts became quicker and erratic, getting closer to falling over the edge. He growled as the pressure around his hard cock built, feeling it pulse with his impending release.

“Fuck,” he groaned. His hips faltered as he gripped tightly at the flesh of her thighs. He threw his head back, as he let go of her legs, and grasped his cock in his hand. He pumped his hand along his shaft, biting his lip as he looked down at her spread out on his bed. She sat up on her elbows, smiling up at him as she moved his hand away, taking over for him as her hand moved up and down along his cock.

“Oh fuck, Y/N,” he let out a guttural moan as her hand picked up speed. Ropes of his cum spurted out of his cock, landing on her stomach. She continued to pump him, making sure he gave her everything he had, relishing in the warmth of his release against her skin.

He breathed heavily, his hand cupping her face as he smiled at her. “Your turn.”

Moving his hand to her shoulder, he pushed her back lightly, smiling as she laughed. He got down on his knees, grasping her hips and pulling her to the edge of the bed. Y/N laughed as she slipped down, moving her hands up to her breasts and pinching her nipples. He smirked as he looked up at her, his tongue licking a stripe up her folds. He moaned at the taste of her, feeling how wet she was already from just fucking her thighs.

“Oh fuck,” she moaned loudly, as she felt his stubble against the inside of thighs. She bit down on her lip, trying to keep herself quiet as he continued to run his tongue along her folds, the vibrations of his moans running through her.

“Taste so fucking good, Y/N,” he muttered against her mound, looking up at her. “So perfect.”

He moved his mouth to her clit, moving his tongue in tight circles around the nub. Her hands came down and grabbed his short hair, clenching tightly as she pressed her lips together. His hand came up, slowly inserting a finger into her wet entrance, moving it in and out of her. He added another finger and began to thrust them back and forth, the pads of his fingers hitting her g-spot every time. She whimpered as he picked up speed, his perfect mouth sucking at her clit as he continued to move his fingers.

He released her clit from his mouth, kissing her inner thigh as he moved up her leg.

“So fucking beautiful,” he muttered against her skin, placing small nips along the inside of her thigh.

He looked at her, the smile never leaving his face. She pushed herself up on her elbow, her other hand still in his hair. Leaning up, he kissed her roughly as he continued to thrust his fingers into her. She moaned into his mouth, tasting herself on his tongue. She felt the familiar feeling of her release approaching, the coil winding tighter and tighter.

“You ready to cum for me, sweetheart?” he asked, his breath fanning against her lips.

“Yeah,” she gasped, nodding as she looked into his eyes. “Make me cum.”

“Make me cum… what?” he asked, his voice gravelly. A deep rumble erupted from his chest as he laughed with a mischievous grin.

She whimpered, gripping his hair harshly. “Make me cum, sir.”

“Good girl,” he praised, moving his head back down again.

Jensen moved his mouth back to her clit, his fingers picking speed as he hit that sweet spot inside of her with precision. Y/N looked down at him, still leaning on her elbow to give her a better view. She held his head in place, fearing he’d move if she removed her hand. He licked at her clit, the sounds of her wetness and his ministrations reaching her ears and causing a string of soft moans and whimpers to leave her lips. His mouth sucked at her, his tongue moving around the nub tightly and his fingers thrusting, faster and faster. She bit down on her lip, nearly drawing blood as the coil in her belly snapped. A harsh, strangled whimper of his name left her lips, as she came hard on his tongue and fingers. He lapped at her folds, taking in her juices before he moved his head away, smiling at her.

With a quick kiss to Y/N’s thigh, Jensen got up and fell back on the bed next to her. She breathed heavily as she looked at him, trying to catch her breath. Turning his head, he looked into her eyes. He turned onto his side, moving closer to her. His lips hovered close to hers, his eyes flicking between all the features of her face. She moved in the rest of the way, kissing him softly. Their lips moved passionately against each other’s, not wanting to let go. As much as he didn’t want to let go, he knew they had a schedule to keep today before they wrapped later that night.

“We only have 20 minutes left,” he mumbled, regretfully against her lips.

She nodded, sadly. “We should go.”

They both got up from the bed, cleaning themselves up and getting dressed again in relative silence. The only sounds were the rustling of fabrics and shoes on the floor of the trailer. Y/N fixed her hair as much as she could in the mirror, her eyes continuously flicking over to Jensen as he did the same, fixing the mess she had made of his short locks. With one last look at each other, Jensen opened the door of the trailer and looked around, letting her out first when he saw that no one was around. They walked to the lunch tent, receiving a few questions on their whereabouts. Jensen was quick to tell everyone he took Y/N to see some of the fan favourite props of the show, and Y/N was glad that people believed him, for the most part.

They ate quickly, both of them silent as they sat across from each other. Y/N didn’t know if they weren’t talking because they are was awkwardness after what happened, or whether it was because he didn’t want to accidentally say something about it in front of the crew. Quite frankly, she was fine with not talking about it just yet. She wasn’t sure where they go from here. Did Jensen want to see her again? If so, would it be just to sleep together finally, or did he want more?

She didn’t think she wanted to know the answers to those questions. Not yet anyway.

Little did she know, the same questions were running through Jensen’s head. He enjoyed what happened back in his trailer, but sue him if he didn’t want more with her. He wanted to go the full home run with her, but if he was being completely honest, he wanted to see her again and again. He wanted to ask her out and see where they go from there.

He knew he had to take a leap of faith and ask her before she left town, because who knew when she would return.

They were back on the bunker set, this time in the war room to shoot the last scene Y/N would be in. It was interesting that Y/N’s character leaving at the end of the episode was the second last scene they were filming, but that was where it happened to land. It was like it happened organically, which was rare for their set during filming.

Jensen was standing at the head of the map table, Jared next to him as Y/N stood across from them. Video village was set up at the other end of the library, giving them more room in the war room for lighting and boom mics. Things were quiet as they fell into their characters, Y/N slinging the duffle bag over her shoulder, as the assistant director called ‘action’.

“Thanks for your help. We really owe you one,” Jared said as ‘Sam’.

She smiled at him, shaking her head. “You really don’t.”

Jensen gave her that signature ‘Dean Winchester’ look, the one that said he was thinking about how to approach a subject. “You know where to find us if we do.”

“You’re buying the six-pack next time,” she said, chuckling slightly.

“Done,” ‘Dean’ said, smirking at her. She smiled at Jensen, finding that her genuine smile to him seeped into the scene.

“See you boys around,” she said, nodding at them. She turned on her heeled ankle boots, walking towards the staircase. With one glance over her shoulder, she gave them a small wave which they returned. She took the stairs all the way up, hearing the AD call ‘cut’.

“Alright, let’s see,” Jensen muttered as he walked over to video village.

Y/N walked down the stairs and over to the map table and placed the duffle bag on it. She waited to hear whether they would have to do another take or not.

“Alright, check the gate! Moving on!” Jensen called out. “That’s a wrap on Y/N Y/L/N!”

He quickly came out from behind the screens, walking over to her and Jared. All the crew around her clapped, as she gave them a small curtsy, laughing as Jared came over and hugged her.

It wasn’t the usual treatment of guest stars, as they usually came in and did the work and then left but considering there was buzz that her character might make a return, they wanted her to feel at home with all of them. They were kind to people with even the smallest of roles, so Y/N always knew she’d be in safe hands with the Supernatural crew.

Y/N hung around to say goodbye as they shot the last scene between the boys. In that time, she sat with her laptop, hoping she could change her flight to leave in a few days. With luck, she managed to find one leaving Vancouver in 5 days’ time, giving her plenty of time to stick around and explore these feelings she had for the handsome green-eyed actor. She couldn’t wait to tell him.

Given that Jared and Jensen had such a great shorthand with each other, they worked quickly to get the work done. Jensen called a wrap on the episode, and they all congratulated him on the amazing work he did. Everyone began to pack things up, the make-up ladies heading to their trailer as Y/N walked with them. She removed all her make-up, freshened up and then got changed into her clothes she wore to set that morning.

Y/N said her goodbyes to Trish and Frida, followed by the rest of the crew and Bob Singer. Jared swooped in for another big hug, nearly breaking her in half with the pressure of his arms around her.

“Jesus, you don’t know your own strength, you know that?” she said, cringing in slight pain as she turned and twisted, trying to get feeling back in her body.

“Hey, not my fault you can’t handle it,” he laughed, patting her back. “Alright, I’m out of here. I hope I’ll see you soon.”

“Me too,” she smiled, as he enveloped her in a softer but still warm hug. She decided to leave out the fact that she wasn’t going anywhere just yet, wanting to tell Jensen first.

Jared walked towards the parking lot, heading for the SUV that Cliff was waiting by. They were no doubt waiting on Jensen, who had been finishing up some paperwork after wrapping the episode. Y/N slung her bag over her shoulder, walking towards his trailer in search of him. Reaching the door, she knocked a few times and waited. The door opened, a tired but smiling Jensen greeting her.

“Hey,” he smiled, leaning against the door frame.

“So… I have some news,” she told him, a smile playing at her lips.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, his eyebrows raised as he folded his arms across his chest. His arms were exposed thanks to his black t-shirt, and she suddenly felt like her skin was on fire. She tried not to show her disappointment when he put on his jacket and grabbed his backpack, shutting off the light in the trailer as he closed the door.

She nodded, stepping down from the stairs to the trailer and turning to him. “I changed my flight. I’m leaving in 5 days.”

Jensen felt his heart skip a beat with that news. He nodded, the smile growing bigger on his face. “Well… you want to come over tonight? We can pick up where we left off.”

She bit her lip, nodding slowly. “I’d love to.”

Keeping up the pretence that there wasn’t anything going on, Jensen went back home with Cliff driving him to his apartment. Y/N called an Uber, knowing that if she had joined them Jared and Cliff would question what was happening. She and Jensen hadn’t spoken about it, but they both knew that there wasn’t anything to say to anyone until they figured it out themselves. For now, she wanted him in ways she’s never wanted anyone else and she was more than ready to see what he was capable of.

Reaching Jensen’s apartment, Y/N went up to his floor and down the hall, knocking on his door, noting that it was the right one from the text he had sent while she was in the Uber. The door swung open, and she grinned as Jensen smirked at her, letting her in. She took in the apartment, with its beautiful view of the city lights twinkling at night, a large screen TV and comfortable couch, and his guitar on the wall closest to her. However, as nice as it was that wasn’t where her mind was in that moment.

Turning around, Y/N looked at him, his eyes reflecting the same things she was feeling. They moved towards each other, their lips meeting in a rough, but sensual kiss as they wrapped their arms around each other. Pushing and pulling at each other’s clothes, their lips continued to move against each other, not wanting to stop.

“Thank god you changed your flight,” he mumbled against her swollen lips. “I can’t wait to fuck you.”

“Then what are you waiting for?” she asked, grabbing his shoulders and jumping up, wrapping her legs around his waist.

His hands immediately supported her as he carried her off to his bedroom.

By the time they came up for air, the sun was rising, and Jensen had to leave to go to work for the first day of the next episode. With a promise of returning later that day, he told Y/N to stay at his apartment, telling her she could use whatever she wanted before he had to leave.

As she stood on the balcony and looked out at the view with her morning coffee, she had never been more thankful to a job she had taken. She made some great friends already, there was a buzz that she may come back for more episodes, and she had met the most incredible man who she couldn’t wait to explore more with.

She found herself repeating Jensen’s words from the night before as she smiled into her morning cup of caffeine.

Thank god she changed her flight.

-x-

If you’re crossed out, I couldn’t tag you :(

Tags: @deanwanddamons @winchest09 @downanddirtydean @jensengirl83 @wonder-cole @that-one-gay-girl @flamencodiva @ellewritesfix05 @roonyxx @akshi8278 @hobby27 @michellethetvaddict @spngirl05 @kyjey @halesandy @440mxs-wife @stoneyggirl @deanswaywardgirl @redbarn1995 @marianita195 @babypink224221 @deans-baby-momma @parinarain @thoughts-and-funnies @mandalou29 @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @superaveng @supernatural-love14 @vicmc624 @prettyboyswow @lunarmoon8 @supernatural-bellawinchester​ 

[hoboal87]

Baby Mine

Title: Baby Mine

Pairing: Sam x Reader

Characters: Sam Winchester, Reader, Jody, Alex, Claire, Bobby

Word Count: 1600+

Summary: You and Sam prepare for the birth of your son.

Warnings: post 15 x 20, fluff, implied dom/sub relationship, non-graphic descriptions of labor, breastfeeding.

A/N: This is my super late entry into @superbadassnatural​‘s #333 badass followers challenge. My prompts are “I didn’t expect it to be this big,” and “this is disgusting”

A/N 2: This is set in the same universe as “The Tie,” and “Carry On,” but it can be read as a stand-alone.

No Beta, all mistakes are mine. I have tense issues, I know.

My Full Masterlist

Miracle’s head lies on your lap as you do your best to remain calm. You can feel the wetness of her nose against the small sliver of your exposed belly. It was unseasonably warm for South Dakota in the spring, and if you could’ve you would’ve been walking around naked all the time. Growing a Winchester has not been an easy task, and your doctor informed you at your last check up the baby will be at least 9 lbs.

Nine. Freaking. Pounds. You’re going to be pushing a nine pound baby out of your body, and Sam was already talking about having another one in a few years! You can’t even imagine wanting to go through all this again. Even though Jody and the mothers you’ve befriended over the last few months have assured you, that you’ll forget about all the bad, all the sickness, all the discomfort you’ve been feeling the second the baby’s born.

A clattering from your bedroom pulls you out of your head, giving you a moment of reprise. Sam’s muffled swears have you giggling as he frantically tries to pack your hospital bag. Jody had advised you to pack one over a month ago, but you and Sam had been so focused on making sure the nursery was ready, as well as warding your home, that you hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

Another grunt comes from the hall as Sam seemingly runs into your bathroom, and then into the nursery, where the baby's coming home outfit was luckily laid out on the changing table. By the time Sam makes it back into the living room, he’s nearly out of breath, eyes falling on you as your face scrunches in pain.

You’ve been in the early stages since last night, but you’d woken up to much more intense contractions a few hours ago. Sam takes your hand in his as you wince as a contraction rolls through you. He eyes the watch on his wrist, Dean’s watch, keeping track of the duration and time between each wave of pain.

“Y/N,” Sam whispers, calming himself when your eyes connect to his. “I think it’s time.”

“Alex said 5 minutes,” you huff, rubbing your swollen belly and giving him a pained smile. Having a nurse in the family was the best thing you could ever ask for. Alex, on the other hand, probably wishes she wasn’t, especially after Sam started calling her in the middle of the night with the most ridiculous questions that you’d ever heard of. You’d finally gotten him to stop, apologizing to Alex for another 3 a.m. frantic phone call about the possibility of the baby being born extra appendages.

Once Sam had adjusted to the news of your pregnancy, he dove deep into research, not that you were expecting anything else from him. Parenting magazines cover your coffee table, multiple books on pregnancy and birth are stacked on his bedside table, and he’d watched every youtube video relating to pregnancy and taking care of a newborn.

“I know, but baby we’re getting there. You’ve gone from 10 minutes to 7 in the last hour. The parenting book said–” You roll your eyes, your inner brat coming to the surface after months of being stifled. “Babygirl,” Sam tone changes, and you instantly relax at the phrase you haven’t heard in nearly a year. “Don’t think I haven’t been keeping track of all the punishments you’ll be getting as soon as you can handle it.”

It's just the distraction you need, and your eyes divert to the car seat against the wall.

Sam had tried and failed twice already on installing the carrier in the back seat of the Impala, spewing profanity as you watched, chuckling from the front porch. After nearly an hour, Sam gave up on the car seat, and joined you on the porch, his hand splaying softly over stomach. He leaned over, and placed a sweaty kiss on your lips, it was moments like those that Jody told you to cherish; and both you and Sam made it a point to do so.

“Then you better figure out how to properly install that in the back seat,” you sass.

An annoyed laugh leaves Sam as he glares at the yet-to-be defeated carrier, hesitating now to leave your side.

“It can wait.”

“It really can’t, babe,” you chuckle softly.

It’s less than an hour later that you and Sam pull up to Sioux Falls General Hospital. He’s holding you steady as you waddle towards the check-in desk. An orderly appears with a wheelchair, and wheels you away as Sam hands over all of your pre-registered paperwork. Alex is by your side before you realize it, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. She helps you dress into a hospital gown, and Sam rejoins you just as you take a seat on the bed.

Sam watches helplessly as your face contorts as another contraction rolls through your body. You squeeze his hand tightly, sure that you’re leaving crescent-shaped marks on him. This one is different than the others, it’s more intense, and longer-lasting than the others had been.

“Y/N, look at me, baby, you’re doing so good,” Sam praises as you whimper through the contraction. Sam leans forward and presses a kiss on your forehead as the pain subsides. “You’re so strong, Y/N.”

“I didn’t expect it to be that big.”

Five hours later, you’re cradling your newborn son against your chest. Sam’s behind you, whispering praises in your ears and holding you tight against him. You present your breast to the babe, encouraging him to latch on, and to your delight he does so quickly. Sam makes a joke about how Dean was always a boob man, and you comment how his namesake must’ve inherited his predilection as well.

Sam tenses behind you, and you quickly realize your mistake. Dean was always on your mind, and moreso Sam’s, but you rarely, if ever, said his name out loud. It seemed to pain Sam to hear his brother’s name, so you avoided it as much as you could. But now the baby is here, and you wonder if it's a good idea to name him after the fallen Winchester.

Sam’s hands are wrapped around your still swollen center, and you turn your face to his. Tears are escaping from his hazel eyes, and when they meet your Y/E/C ones, he gives you a small smile.

“We don’t have to name him Dean,” you offer, even though you honestly couldn’t think of a more fitting name for your son. “If you don’t–”

“It’s not that, baby,” he sighs, wiping at the fallen tears. “I just– I miss him. Dean should– he should be here. He should be here to meet our son.”

You nod, and focus your attention back on the newborn, suckling gently at your breast. One of Sam’s hands leaves your stomach, and his fingers brush against the infant’s soft skin, remarking that he’d never seen a baby with so much hair, and that he looked so small. You chuckle, and remind him that if he had to push a nine-pound watermelon out of his body, he wouldn’t think it was small.

Sam concedes, unable to contain his laughter, and the brief tension that was in the room disappears and doesn’t return. After little Dean is finished, you and Sam take turns counting his fingers and toes, cooing at your son as you take in all his features.

A nurse returns, and you reluctantly let her take Dean away to be properly cleaned, weighed and measured. She instructs both you and Sam to sleep while you can, joking that you’ll be getting very little from now on. Thanks to Sam being a human incubator you curl up against him and let all of the exhaustion from the last 24 hours finally catch back up to you.

You're woken by Sam a few hours later, informing you that Jody, the girls, and Bobby are outside. Sam slips from behind you, and disappears out of the room for a moment before returning with your found family. Jody’s eyes are filled with tears, throwing her arms around you, congratulating you as Bobby claps Sam on the back.

The same nurse returns with Dean as everyone settles in their places around the room. Jody instantly fawns over the baby caressing his chubby cheeks before allowing Sam to pick him up and hand him over to her.

Jody makes a solid promise to spoil the boy rotten. Claire’s body language changed when Alex handed baby Dean over, and after a few minutes, didn’t want to seem to let him go. Bobby becomes impatient as Claire refuses to pass the baby on. Finally, Sam steps in, plucking the baby from her arms, and walking over to Bobby.

“You ready to meet your grandson?” Sam asks, and a smile you’d never seen before appears on Bobby’s face. Sam places the swaddled baby into Bobby’s arms, and you’re sure you see a tear slip down his cheek.

“Looks like he’s takin’ after his momma,'' Bobby laughs. “Lucky boy, hopefully you won’t be an idjit like your daddy and uncle,” he sends you a playful wink. “Just know you ain’t alone, kid. You got more people who will love and protect you than any other kid in the world.”

“Did you tell ‘em?” You ask, trying to move into a slightly more comfortable position.

“Tell us what?” Jody asks from the chair beside your bed.

“Y/N and I, we want you and Bobby to be his godparents. If anything were to ever happen to us, we want you to take care of him.”

“Well, maybe you can tell us his name first,” Claire pipes up, and you hadn’t even realized that you hadn’t told them yet.

“Dean,” Sam eyes his son still in Bobby’s arms. “Dean Robert Winchester.”

Let me know what you think via ask or reblog! Feedback is fuel!

[honesthammie]

From my prompt list:

4) After reaching your 16th birthday you gain the ability to see everyone's red strings of fate and on your 18th you finally get to see yours, except yours dissappears into the ground/sky.

Fandom:Doctor who

Pairing: 13 x gender neutral reader

This is my first fic on tumblr. I know its hella long and not all of my fics will be like this. This came to me from a dream I had recently. I love Jodie and I decided to write the spider episode from a different perspective. I may have change the episode slightly to fit the reader. I am thinking of doing a part 2 but it may be a while before I do as I have deadlines and stuff to keep up with. The next part may be more fluff between 13 and yourself. I know this didn't have much but it's something. I'm also sorry to any Americans reading this, I love yas but its just the personality I put to go with the readers personality. I'm also sorry for any spelling mistakes as I'm doing this on my phone.

Summary: spider episode with a small change I'm plot to accommodate your beautiful self in this fic

Warnings: slight description of a couple of panic/anxiety attacks, swearing and a bit of angst. Long intro for small fluff. And it's a part 1 do I guess a small cliffhanger is a warning?

Beep beep beep. Your alarm starts blaring in your ears, waking you up with a start. You glare at the interrupting machine before turning it off. After such a crazy night, you did not want your sleep so rudely interrupted. Why did you have a crazy night? It's your 18th birthday today and your friends decided to visit your place for a little house party, last night, to celebrate and now you have a pounding headache.

You groaned as you realised, you would need to take some pain meds before you even think about going back to sleep. Slipping out of your bed, you walk to the bathroom and find the cupboard with all sorts of medicinal and bathroom bits and bobs. You then grab the glass that you placed there in preparation for the definite hangover. The glass was a little cold to the touch but you filled it with some cool water from the sinks tap.

You took two, just so you could have a longer sleep. You waddle back into your bedroom and just as you get comfy, you widen your eyes at the memory. You needed to see your mother today, she said she had a gift for you but she would only be at home until 11. You looked at the machine that you hated for the time. It was currently 10:05. You jumped to your feet and rush to get ready.

As you walked outside, you saw the regular red strings that you saw everyday. Why do you see strings? You honestly didn't know, but you knew their purpose, it helped match 2 soulmates together. But something seemed a little off, there was no one on the street anymore, so why could you still see one line of destiny? You decided to follow the string south, down to your own (s/c) hand which was now slightly shaking at the sight.

"Fuck. Fuck,fucky fucking fuck. Why now? Why me? What the shit is going on with me?" You curse to yourself. You could feel your breath getting rapid and your head started spinning slightly. You quickly unlocked your car and sat down to help calm you down. You took a few deep breaths and focused on your senses.

When you eventually calmed down, you decided to look at where the string led. Oh, how you shouldn't have looked. It didn't go in any way of a compass, it went straight up and past the clouds. How? You had so many questions but you had to focus on the day ahead.

You had been to your mothers house and collected your new (fave game series) and your card. You were incredibly thankful as you have been saving up to buy it for yourself one day. You had played the previous games and loved every one of them and to say you were excited was an understatement. You almost ran back into your place if it wasn't for needing the key to access the gates.

Living in a gated community helped you feel a lot safer but it did also make you a big target for thieves to practise picking locks. No one had figured out where the hidden camera that kept alerting the authorities was though. Even you have tried put of plain curiosity but you got stumped after the 10th day of searching. You were sure you looked in every possible hiding spot, yet the camera always seemed to evade you in the pointless game of hide and seek.

As you unlocked the gate, you felt a twitch on your finger. The string was moving down and at a very fast pace, almost falling speed. You looked up and saw a small black dot heading towards the ground, if thats your soulmate, they would certainly be dead the second they meet their fate. When you could no longer see the dot, you kept your eyes glued to the string, waiting for it to disappear like everyone else's did when a soulmate died.

After five minutes, the string was still there and was still as red as ever, like no harm had come to them. But thats not possible. No creature could survive that especially from that great a height! You were beyond curious and quickly went into your living room and searched on all your social media for anyone else that may have spotted the dot in the sky, yet no one had but you knew (b/f) had another massive fight with their roommate, Stella, over whose turn it was to do the dishes again.

If you didn't know that Stella was in a relationship with another, you would have sworn those two were in a relationship. You giggled at the silly thought, "if Stella ever goes through a break up with her, I'm totally gonna set those two up."

You give up on finding anything out today, maybe it'll be on the news tomorrow and you set off to go on an online shopping spree, you had a few codes and now, thanks to your wonderful mother, had a little cash to spare and you did see that gorgeous top on sale. Once you had spent the day either shopping or gaming you decided to head to bed but you couldn't stop thinking about that dot and what the red string meant for you.

When your alarm had went off, you hit it and got dressed for your new job at some hot shot posh hotel run by an aspiring American with High expectations and little experience with Sheffield. You had been told you wouldn't get to meet him much and you were beyond fine with that, you hated Americans, simply because you hated violence and guns were the big no on your weaponry list of avoidance. You didn't mind weapons in video games, those were harmless to the outside world. You didn't mind verbal violence though, it was all you had to defend yourself with and in Sheffield, that was better than nothing. You were very short tempered when it came to your anger but you found that it was either verbal or physical, you chose to be verbal.

You looked at your phone for any messages from (b/f) and had a good luck message. You replied with a smiley face and a "ill need all the luck I can get. I've heard from a few employees that he can be a real asshole for no reason and fires people just because they made eye contact for too long. It's like he suspects someone is out for his blood."

After 2 minutes you received a reply from from them. "You better be on your best behaviour then, young lady!"

"That's the problem. I wonder what the record is for the quickest a person has got fired? Because I may break that, you know me! I don't exactly do as I'm told, that's why finding a job has been so hard. Anyway, I best get ready, gotta look the part! First impressions and all!" You replied with a nervous face. What you failed to notice was the red string no longer pointing towards the sky and you were making it shorter with every step you took. You did give up on finding out about the strange dot and came to the assumption that it fell in a lake, there were plenty of them around.

You walked into the swanky looking hotel and noticed the cobwebs that definitely were not there two days ago when you had your interview, yet they looked like they had been there for weeks. You would have put it down to Halloween decorations if it wasn't for the fact that it was June. You decided to not ask in case this was some sort of strange new American trend that your boss was following to help bring in the youth. It does help make it fit into Sheffield a lot more with the run down and abandoned look. It would need some rust, water damage, mold and cracks to finish the look but it was a start. If you had to be honest, the spider webs helped bring the place together. It was way too posh for Sheffield but you had to lie and say you love it in order to get hired. Just from that lie alone you knew exactly the personality of your boss, arrogant, vain and ignorant.

"Hello, you must be my new helper! I'm Najia, your second in command here. As you can see, there are loads of spider webs so they should be priority. If you could start cleaning in the south west second floor and continue that floor, that would be amazing. Now here's your cleaning trolley and if you happen to finish the floor early, send me a little message through the walkie talkie and I'll give you another room or floor. Do you have any questions?" Najia spoke softly. She seemed lovely and it was shame that she had to be in a place that would get more damage than its worth.

"Just one question: why so many spider webs?"

"I don't know, they just seemed to have appeared, I thought it was silly string from some teenagers that managed to break in somehow but it is actual spider web. It wasn't here when I left last night. I guess I'll have to ask someone about that."

And with that you separated and got to your floor when you finally noticed a slight burning sensation on your finger, it wasn't hurtful. It was like putting the finger in a really hot bath. You looked down and noticed it now pointed downhill and seemed to be glowing a shade of gold ever so gently that you would miss it if the weird sensation didn't make you look.

You left your trolley outside a toilet to make it seem like you were in there when really you had wondered off to follow the string. You would probably lose yourself in the maze of hallways that all looked the same as the last if the string didn't help lead you to a ballroom. You opened the door and instantly screamed. A giant spider was walking towards you, however you couldn't get out, you had used a staff door which needed a key card to use from this side as the other side still needed to be fitted and you left yours in the trolley, near the toilets. And the massive spider seemed to be blocking the other way out so you were trapped.

You weren't scared of spiders but seeing them at the size of a van did intimidate you. You started shaking from fear of what it would do to you. Out of pure instinct, you put your hand out to protect yourself and the sound of 8 legs against wooden flooring had ceased. The only sound was your laboured breathing. It stayed like this for what seemed like hours but in actuality was only 5 minutes. You opened your eyes slowly to see 8 more stare right back. 8 eyes that showed fear but no intention of harm. Instead the spider gave you space to breathe by walking back a few feet. Then it seemed to be watching you, studying your next move to see if you were a threat and whether or not it should kill you.

You stayed still for a moment, wrapping your head around what had just happened before gently walking towards the creature with both hands forward to show them clean of weapons. You decided to try and speak to the spider to see if it can understand you.

"Hello. I'm new around here, I'm sorry if I'm trespassing on your area, I wasn't aware of you being here to be honest. I mean you no harm, if anything, I want to help you but unfortunately, I'm stuck in here aswell." You spoke carefully as if it was a child that was afraid. You gently put your hand in its head and it seemed to understand your good intentions and your situation as it let you pet it. Now you were close, you started to admire it and realised it wasn't poisonous or venomous, it was just a regular house spider. But you couldn't figure out how or why it got this big but it did explain the cobwebs everywhere.

You had been with the spider for hours and it seemed like Najia either didn't care or has gotten fired as she hasn't asked about you. You had spent the time talking or singing to the spider. She, as you found out after looking it up, seemed to put her body around you to protect you. You had even met a couple of her children as they gave you food from the cafeteria to nibble on when your stomach growled.

Eventually the burning on your fingers turned up massively and was causing you pain. The spider seemed to sense this and wrapped her web around your finger to help cool it down a little. It didn't help but you showed gratitude anyway as she was only trying to help in anyway she could. You gave her a small smile and her eyes seemed to show sympathy in return.

Then the doors opened again and the sound of several feet walked in. "Oh thank god. I thought I was never going to be found in here." You thought to yourself as you heard the voices mumble to each other and probably about Betty and what's the best way to get rid of her. You would have paid more attention if your finger didn't feel like it had caught fire and was tight as if your soulmate was amongst those that had walked in.

Now you were nervous. How would you introduce yourself? What did they look like? Were they male or female, not that you really cared? So many questions made you feel lightheaded so you grabbed onto Betty to keep yourself planted.

Then the door opened again and a familiar voice echoed in the hall and you knew exactly how he'd want to deal with Betty and after your bond today, you would rather die than her. She was obviously innocent here and maybe the others could see it. Then you heard the familiar click of a gun safety being taken off and your body reacted before your mind did and you jumped in front of her to stop him, although you had a feeling it wouldn't, but it was worth a shot for the others to stop him.

"Don't you fucking dare shoot that gun Dickhead! Not without going through me!" You spoke with fire in your eyes and maybe a slight mix if fear aswell. That's when you looked over at the new group of people. They all seemed trustworthy enough.

There was Najia, who welcomed you here earlier and she looked sad, so she had definitely been fired. Then there was another woman who looked a lot like her, you guessed she was a daughter or something and she was pretty and definitely somone with authority with the way she stood and held herself, maybe she is a police officer? A man who looked as though he was in his 50s and definitely did not belong in this weird group. A young man who looked of a similar age to the police woman, maybe they are friends.

Then you laid your eyes on one of the most beautiful woman, no, human, you had ever seen and would probably never see again. She had short blonde hair in a bob. They seemed to be brunette at the root. She had beautiful chocolate honey eyes that glimmers with so much emotion and age well beyond her years, like she had experienced thousands of years before this moment. You also noticed her odd sense of style but you admired her boldness and it did look amazing on her. You decided she could only be described as sunshine and rainbows.

Then you noticed her hand And a familiar red string that was also glowing a beautiful subtle gold. Like millions of tiny golden stars circled around the string in a beautiful dance of love. Your eyes started to follow the string down and back to your own. She was your soulmate. That goddess that stood before you, was to be yours forever some day.

Then you looked into her hypnotic eyes before you remembered where you were and what situation you were in. And you realised everyone was staring at you for your previous action towards a spider.

"If you want to keep your job, I'd suggest you move out of the way silly girl!" Your boss grumbled in a threatening tone.

"Nope. You are about to hurt an innocent creature that is stuck and terrified. You built on top of landfill and didn't bother to check and thought of no consequences. This is your fault. Is this how you would treat a child that was a mistake after a one night stand or something? Would you shoot a child that had no choice?" You spoke with confidence yet more nerves now she was there listening to every word. When he didn't answer you shouted "Answer me! Would you shoot your mistake of a child?"

He glared at you. "This is different. This is an animal. A pest. It needs to be killed so more can't be born! I made my mistake and now I'm fixing it!" He bellowed just seconds before a shot was made from his gun. You had expected pain but instead you heard a horrible shriek from behind you.

You quickly turned around and petted her whilst whispering sweet words as she took her last breath. You stood up and made your way over to the murderer. You couldn't stand him and you were so tempted to take his gun and shoot him with it, but you didn't. With fire in your eyes and pure hatred, you slapped him hard enough to leave a mark and maybe a bruise as a reminder of his shitty choices. "You can't fire me because I fucking quit you arrogant dick! She had caused no harm to you or I and I'm sure if you would have sorted it sooner, so many more lives could have been saved as she only had humans because flies didn't fill her anymore! She was so kind and just so afraid. I hope you lose everything you pathetic sad sack of boiled shit! You are truest one of the lowest excuses for a human I have ever met and if we meet again please be very afraid, because next time, it won't just be a slap you have to worry about! It'll be your balls as I cut them off beacuse men like you shouldn't repopulate the planet! You horrid scum! I hope your empire fucking collapses!" You spoke with venom lacing every word. You were seething and boy did his face look punchable. Instead you walked away with your middle finger proudly being the last thing he sees as you walk out the normal doors.

Once you were outside, you sat in the steps and finally let out all the emotions. You cried so hard, over your loss of yet another job and a newly found friend. You screamed at him with a string of curses that would offend just about anybody. You suddenly felt somone sit at the side of you. You knew who it was when the string was burning more than ever before and yet you couldn't feel it over the pain your heart.

"You did brilliant back there. You chose, not just your job, but your life over a creature you barely even knew! If you wouldn't have jumped in when you did, I don't think her children would've had a chance to escape to my TARDIS because he's going on a hunt right now for the rest of them. Sure, you didn't save her but you saved so many more lives than you think. And I know each one is eternally grateful for what you did. I know I would be." Her words were certain and sympathetic. They seemed to calm you down instantly. Or maybe is was the way she talked that helped with her soft but strong voice and you knew you already couldn't get enough like it was the best drug ever. You could listen to her all day and yet, she had said very little to you. It was a strange effect but you liked it.

She fell into a silence for a while just keeping you company as you came to terms with had happened.

[adhdeancas]

hi! if you still take requests for your transnatural series, could you do kaia, claire, and jack hanging out and kaia uses they/she? maybe jack learns about gender?

sorry it took me so long! I finally got the inspiration bc of LDOV, so here’s what Claire, Kaia, and Jack are doing to celebrate! featuring sickly sweet gays, gender-fuckery, and young dumbassery

Jody had made them promise not to drink. Like they would, with Jack right there. He may look like he’s their age, but that kid is… well, a kid. Claire had antagonized her purposely by pouring all their drinks into old empty bottles of margarita mix and tequila. Kaia reaches across her girlfriend to grab one now, swinging the Cuervo bottle of water toward their picnic setting. Jack and Claire may be cool enough to drink the homemade punch all day long, but Kaia’s teeth are starting to ache. Christ, she’s starting to sound as old as Dean and Sam. 

“Babe, pass me the box over there.” Claire interrupts her thoughts. Kaia blinks and passes said cardboard over to Claire, realizing they don’t actually know what’s in this one. Claire grins, obviously recognizing her confusion. “Surprise, Jack, we’re actually here to celebrate.” 

Jack’s whole face lights up. “Really? What? Is it someone’s birthday?” 

Claire rolls her eyes and Kaia presses a smile into submission. “No, kid, it’s lesbian day of visibility,” she says. She hands Kaia a cupcake from the box then, one of the giant ones they sell at the supermarket, with Claire’s clear personal touch of ‘congrats, you’ve got taste’ written in icing over the top. Kaia lets out a short laugh, and Claire beams. Jack cranes his neck over to see the writing until Claire passes him his own cupcake. It distracts him long enough that Kaia can duck in for a long sweet kiss that leaves Claire blushing. 

“Thanks, Claire. Let me see yours?” 

Claire obediently takes the last cupcake out of the box and sticks a candle in the middle, not quite covering up her message that says ‘congrats, you escaped the evangelicals.’ 

“Impressed that fit on a cupcake,” Kaia teases. Claire waggles her eyebrows. 

“I’m real talented with my fingers.” 

Kaia nudges her with a snort. “What’s a lesbian?” Jack asks abruptly. 

Kaia takes a peak at his own cupcake now as Claire lights it with the bic she keeps in her jacket. His says ‘congrats, your whole family is lesbian.’ “A lesbian,” Claire says studiously, lighting their and her own candle. “Is somebody who likes girls. Women. In a gay way.” She raises her eyebrows at him but he just blinks. “I’m a lesbian. They’re a lesbian.” She nods her head to Kaia. “Jody and Donna? Big ole d-” Kaia coughs loudly. “Lesbians. Sam and Eileen too, totally gay. And Dean and Cas don’t quite count, but they get an honorary title because it took them twelve years to figure out they were totally in love with each other.” 

Kaia shakes her head. “True kid, you’ve only got lesbians. Good for you,” She extends a fist to Jack and he bumps it happily. 

“Now blow out your candle.” Claire commands. They all take looks at each other to get on the same page and then blow them out at once. Well, Claire and Kaia blow theirs out. Jack huffs and puffs on his, but the stubborn thing stays lit. “Come on, Jack, blow it out!” 

Kaia starts laughing when they realize, and they’re leaned all the way back in the grass before Claire leans over to check on them. God, their girlfriend is a bitch, and she loves her so much. “You fucker,” she whispers, pointing at the poor kid. He’s about to turn blue with effort all for a trick candle. 

Claire winks. “That’s okay, Jack, I got you,” she licks her fingers and pinches the flame out, to Jack’s huge fucking amazement. 

“How did you-” 

She shows him her unburned fingers, grins. “I’m a badass.” 

“Do it again!” 

Claire laughs. “Later, dude. We’ve got plenty of flames to practice on tonight.” She sprawls out so her head’s in Kaia’s lap, apparently too good for the ground. 

Kaia sits up to put a hand on her cheek and sends an exaggerated wink to Jack. “Remember, nothing to anybody, but especially not Jody or Cas,” She reminds him. They’d kill them all if they knew she and Claire had brought fireworks with them. But hey, it’s Lesbian Day. They’re allowed. Being gay and committing crimes, and all. Fireworks in an abandoned field? That’s nothing compared to what they do on the regular 9 to 5.

“I remember.” Jack solemnly swears. “But Kaia, I thought-” He stops, eyebrows twisting in confusion. 

“What’s up, Jack?” 

He hesitates again before continuing. “I thought you weren’t a girl. Aren’t lesbians supposed to be girls?” 

Kaia grins. “Hm, kinda.” She looks down at Claire, whose eyes have fluttered shut with Kaia’s soft touches. She doesn’t open her eyes but must feel Kaia’s look, because she chips in.

“It’s more about loving girls in a gay way than being full-blown girl,” she tells him. Her hand seeks out the one of Kaia’s that’s not on her cheek and intertwines their fingers. Kaia’s heart flutters, and they can feel the tips of their ears flush. “Like Sam and Eileen. And Kaia.” 

Kaia nods, thankful for the start of the explanation. “Gender’s complicated. And sexuality. But, uh, it’s more about what you feel. Than the labels or anything,” 

“But being a lesbian’s great.” Claire says emphatically. “I mean, look at her.” She gestures wildly up to Kaia and ends up flopping a hand against her shoulder. “Sorry, babe,” 

“‘S okay,” Kaia assures her. They look up to see Jack looking at them with like the softest eyes she’s ever seen. It makes her blush and look back at Claire, who has the good sense to keep her eyes shut when she’s being sappy.

“I wanna be a lesbian!” 

Kaia grins, full-out this time, at the childlike wonder on his face. “Awesome, dude. Go for it.” 

Claire reaches a blind hand out to do an awkward version of her and Jack’s secret handshake. He complies just as clumsily. “Hell yeah, Jack. It’s in your blood. But, y’know, live your truth or whatever.” 

Kaia pats Claire on the cheek, once, twice, slapping a little harder each time until Claire’s eyes fly open and she tackles her. They tousle on the ground with Jack cheering and switching sides depending on who’s winning in the moment, until Claire rolls over and lets out a harsh gasp. Kaia stops immediately, turning her to look at the damage. “My fucking cupcake!” Claire cackles maniacally and shoves a handful of cake and icing at her face.

It devolves into a full-blown food fight. Kaia manages to eat most of her crushed cupcake through Claire’s repeated attacks with it, but once Jack gets involved, all bets are off. Jack squeezes a bottle of mayonnaise onto Claire’s shirt, and she upends the Tito’s bottle over his head. At one point Kaia gets hit with lunch meat (they make a vulgar joke that only Claire understands) and manages to get Claire in a headlock so Jack can smush the cupcake frosting he’d scraped off all over her face while she swears vengeance. 

They sneak onto the nearest farm to hose each other off, during which Claire very nearly gets her revenge in a water fight until the farmer catches on and runs them off the property. They’re all breathing hard and laughing by the time they get back to their field, and they huddle under a horse blanket from the back of Jody’s truck while they watch their fireworks. It’s a good day.

[insomniamamma]

Liminal: Ezra and Cee

A/N: Contemporary AU in which Ezra becomes his niece, Cee's caretaker after an automobile accident kills his brother, Damon, and costs him his arm. Same AU as "Ferris wheels are for old people." No reader insert character, just Ezra and Cee on the road. Written for @autumnleaves1991-blog​ ‘s Writer’s Wednesday.

Warnings: Mentions of past trauma/injury. Drug references in a song. Some language. I tried to research body powered transhumeral prosthetics to get some idea of how Ezra's prosthetic arm might work, but then I fell into an overthinking morass, any inaccuracies are mine.

"Willin'" is written by Lowell George. The version referenced in the story is recorded by Linda Ronstadt.

lim·i·nal /ˈlimənl/

adjective: liminal

   1.relating to a transitional or initial stage of a process.    2.occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold.

--"Willin'"--

          "’... been warped by the rain, driven by the snow,’" Cee sings along with the music rattling through the truck's speakers, "I'm drunk and dirty, don't you know. But I'm still willin'..."

        The road stretches long and straight in front of them, harsh, rust-colored land dotted with scrub under the arc of an impossibly blue sky. Ezra asked Cee to compile the playlist. You are my co-pilot for this mission, he'd told her, and as such your duties include, but are not limited to, navigator, snack supervisor and DJ. DJ? Really? Make us a playlist, Little Bird, every adventure needs some good road music. And she had really delivered.          "’...Out on the road late last night, I'd see my pretty Alice in every headlight, Alice, Dallas Alice...’"  Ezra'd expected hours of auto-tuned pop or loud screamy music where he couldn't understand the words, and while there was some of that, Cee had taken her duties as DJ very seriously, creating a huge genre-bending list that all worked together.

     He knew a lot of it. When he was still weird Uncle Ezra and not Legal Guardian Ezra, Cee made a habit of pawing through his vinyl collection when she and Damon would visit, picking a record to play and then peppering him with questions about it. Still, some of the tracks she picked surprised him, like this one, Linda Ronstadt's version of "Willin'" a road trip anthem if there ever was one, but something he didn't expect Cee to be familiar with.  On their first go through the playlist, he'd asked her, where'd you hear this one, Birdie? You remember that movie, The Abyss? It's in that movie, the director's cut though, not the theatrical cut, the theatrical cut is bullshit--and he'd just listened to her go off about all the things wrong with the theatrical cut, the movie itself he barely remembered, something about divers finding aliens underwater, he'd listened and grinned, Cee could go so quiet sometimes. It was always a relief to hear her sound alive and interested, especially after--          "’And I've been from Tucson to Tucumcari," Cee sings and Ezra joins her, "Tehachapi to Tonopah...’" Cee's voice is sweet. Ezra's voice is not, but that's never stopped him. They've got the windows down. The AC started smelling funny a couple days ago, and, in this part of the world, a breeze to evaporate the sweat is just as good as AC. Cee's hair makes a flyaway halo as they sing--          "’Driven every kind of rig that's ever been made, Driven the backroads so I wouldn't get weighed. And if you give me...’" Ezra and Cee smile at each other, suck in deep breaths for the big chorus, "’...Weed, whites and wine, and you show me a sign...And I'll be willin' to be movin'"

--Petroglyph--

       The rust colored forms on pale stone walls peer out at them. Some loom large in the foreground, others recede into the background as if the weathered rock is a portal a window into some other place that lives just below the skin of the world. The back of Ezra's neck prickles. Sometimes the world is thin. Sometimes he feels as if there is a larger world moving and shifting beneath the surface of this one. Sometimes he feels like things are happening out of order, reality stripping and skipping like a loose bicycle chain--        Cee's warm hand creeps into his, "They're a little scary, aren't they?" She says.        "Indeed they are," says Ezra, "One has to wonder what they were thinking. What they were trying to say. Are these gods in these pictures? Or just regular men?"        "Does it matter?" Asks Cee, and he jerks his head to look at her. She is utterly entranced by the red figures and sigils.        "Of course it does," he says, "You don't think so?"        "I mean, it matters, I guess, but what matters more is that people made these," she says, "People like us. People with hands. Not that Ancient Aliens bullshit." Ezra laughs. Cee squeezes his hand.        "C'mon," she says, "let's see more."

--Rest Stop--

       "Hey MOM!," a child's voice snaps Ezra out of his reverie. Cee is in the truck stop, using the restroom and restocking their snack supply. At these stops he fuels up and then gives her some cash and sets her loose inside. And then they stretch their legs and sit outside for a spell. Ezra sits at a picnic bench letting the sun hit his closed eyelids, "MOM! That guy's got a ROBOT ARM! Like WINTER SOLDIER!" Ezra opens his eyes to a little boy, maybe four with a bunch of curly hair and big eyes, pointing at him.        "Daniel!" His mother hisses, and pinches at his arm, "That's rude. I'm so sorry. Danny, what did I tell you about staring--"        "Ma'am? It's quite alright, Ma'am," says Ezra, and hunkers down so he's eye level with the little boy.        "Hi there," he says, "Daniel, is it? I'm Ezra." He offers his right arm, the double hook at the end open, titanium alloy padded with silicone. Daniel solemnly grips the hooks and shakes.        "You've got stickers!" Says Daniel, and for a second Ezra is confused, and then he grins, looking down at the bedecked black plastic of his prosthesis. He stands.        "My girl decided that I must have a sticker for every state we stop in," says Ezra, he stands and smiles at Daniel's mom, "Like an old steamer trunk. I'm afraid I didn't catch your name--"        Cee steps out of the air-conditioned cavern of the truck stop, slits her eyes against the brightness of midday sun glittering up from the concrete, plastic bags full of crap-snacks and energy drinks threaded over her arms. Ezra handed her a couple twenties and told her to go nuts. Re-supply runs have turned into their own sort of game. She always grabs the usual stuff, chips and Snickers bars and Paydays (Ezra has an absolute weakness for Paydays. They don't taste like they used to, he'd griped, but that didn't stop him from eating them), but somewhere along the line, Cee decided to turn this into a battle of the wills. Her unspoken mission is to find something so utterly weird at one of these stops that Ezra won't eat it. So far, she has been unsuccessful. The closest thing was an aloe juice and cucumber drink that smelled amazing, but felt like swallowing cold snot. That one was a draw. She has high hopes for the dill pickle-sriracha gummy worms nestled in the bottom of the bag. The packaging looked like Christmas in hell. More important than the snacks is the plain, flat paper bag she holds.                                                                                     Ezra's near the picnic benches chattering at some lady with a kid. Menace, she thinks, but smiles. Ezra was always the extrovert before, and it's good to him smiling so big and open in the sunshine, making friends with random people at a truck stop. She sees an echo of her and him before, when she and Dad would visit when she was small and he'd tell her some outrageous tale and she'd say Uncle Ezra, you're so weird, and he'd scoop her up and swing her around, planting a prickly kiss on her cheek and saying oh, little bird, you have no idea, and this always made Dad laugh.

       "Oh, Ez-ra," Cee calls, and when he turns, he sees her devilish grin, holding a small brown paper bag up beside her face like it's contraband, "Look what I found."         "So I get to witness the sacred stickering?" Asks Ezra's new friend.        "Indeed you do," says Ezra, "This is Cee. Cee, meet Jody, and that little man playing in the dirt there is Daniel."        "Nice to meet you," says Cee, "Stick your arm out, old man."        "Don't you want to document this momentous occasion?"        "Oh, right," Cee pulls out her phone, "Hey, uh, miss Jody? Can you take some video? I got it all set up."        "Cee is documenting our adventures for posterity," says Ezra. He extends his prosthetic, already covered in overlapping ovoids, enough that they are starting to resemble dragon scales, "What do you think?" Cee and Daniel circle round.        "How bout here?" asks Daniel, tapping just above the articulated elbow.        "That's a good spot," says Cee and peels the sticker from it's backing with a flourish. She smiles up at her phone recording in a stranger's hand, "We have now infiltrated the state of Nevada," she grins, "Evil-doers beware."        "Yeah!" Says the little boy, pudgy hands planted on his hips for the benefit of the camera, "Or Winter Soldier will KICK YOUR ASS!"        "Daniel!"

--Stars--

       Cee wakes in the dead of night, disoriented, a darkness so thick that for a moment she's not sure where she is, and then she hears Ezra's rhythmic snoring off to her side, reaches out and brushes fabric of the tent and lays back, puzzled, muscles pleasantly sore from a day spent scrabbling up and down eroded granite boulders that looked like they belonged on Mars or Tatooine, walking trails and marveling at the strange ecology of the high-desert, so unlike back home. Bad dream? She wonders, probably. She feels her eyes getting heavy, feels herself lulled by Ezra's sleep sounds, snores punctuated by mumbles. Sometimes full sentences, his side of whatever dream-conversation he's having. Probably has no idea he does it--        Cee sits bolt upright, hands clutched in fists against her chest, a high-pitched wail cuts the cold night, a sound like a woman screaming, and another wail threads through the first, so loud it could be right outside the tent, and then a sound like gruesome laughter. The back of her neck prickles and her heart pounds in her throat. She tells herself that it's just some wild animal making noise, some desert bird maybe, but wasn't the California desert the last known home of the Manson family? Maybe not this desert, but still--        "Ezra," she hisses, and he mumbles something incoherent, "Ezra, wake up!" She reaches and pokes him hard, "Ezra!"        "Whazzit birdie?"        "Listen!" The screams rise and fall again like something from a horror movie.        "s'just coyotes," says Ezra, "probly next county over. They don't hurt people, they're just loud."        "You sure?"        "Go back to sleep, Cee."

       "Ezra," He's dreaming, some place with Joshua trees the size of skyscrapers, spiked limbs under a red sky. Cee's with him somewhere in the bloodlight but he can't see her, just hears her calling--        "Ezra!" He blinks awake, the red sky receding. Cee is shaking him.        "Yuh. M'awake birdie,"        "I gotta pee," she says.        "You know where the outhouses are, just right down the trail,"        "I'm not going by myself! Not with those things out there!" Ezra pushes himself up and shakes his head, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He can just make out Cee's form against the faint light of the sky leaking through the tent.        "Alright, just gimme a second," he says.        "I'll get the light,"        "We don't need it," he says.        "Ez-"        "We got night eyes now," he says, "No light pollution out here. You'll see."

       Ezra stands transfixed in the chill dark, head cocked upward. The more he looks, the more he can see. More stars than he's ever seen in his life spread across the vast inverted bowl of the sky, no summer haze out here, no light-wash from streetlights. He is dizzy with it, the vast sweep of the sky, and as he stares and his eyes adjust further, he can see the arm of the Milky Way angled across the black, can actually see the dark band of dust threaded through the silver-blue light. He doesn't hear the outhouse door shutting, doesn't notice Cee beside him until she folds his hand into hers.        "Look up, Little Bird," he breathes and it feels like a prayer, his heart suddenly full, squeezing in his chest, Cee small and warm next to him.        "Oh, wow," she says, barely a whisper, "That's the Milky Way isn't it?" Tears blur the stars and fall hot against his cheeks.        "It is." He looks at her, her face upturned, cheeks and hair frosted in star shine, limning her eyes, her smile. They've lost so much, him and Cee, but they've gained each other, and that's not nothing is it?        "We're so small," says Cee, "Us. People. This whole planet. All of us. We're just a little dot." Ezra smiles in the dark, even as tears dry in his lashes. He squeezes her fingers in his.        "C'mon, let's get back in the tent before we freeze."

--Hoodoo--

       Cee sleeps in the passenger's seat. She'd helped break camp and pack everything up even though it was early for her. They had spent an extra night in Joshua Tree and now had to make up the difference. It's time to go home. There are things he wants to do before Cee goes back to school, things they need to take care of. So he woke them early, promising Cee that she could sleep in the car as long as she needed. She'd helped him get ready, half-peeling a couple candy bars and putting them were he could easily reach.        "You want the playlist?" She asked, "I can get it going."        "Not right now. I want some quiet."          “'Kay," and Cee was asleep before they were to the next mile marker.

       Hoodoos rise on either side of the highway, striated red cliffs against the slowly lightening sky, cut into improbable formations by long gone rivers, thin spires topped with boulders, first glints of sun hitting the higher cliffs while everything else still exists in that liminal space between day and night. Ezra glances over at Cee, hair in a messy halo, face slack in sleep, cheeks sun-reddened and newly freckled, closed eyes moving, dreaming. Ezra thinks of those first days, wracked with pain and trying to navigate the new, dark-shrowded territory of her and him, each of them crippled by loss, each willing to lash out at the other. Ezra thinks of how far they've come since then, uncurling like relaxing fists and learning to be with each other. They drive into the dawn and the first bit of light touches her hair, turning it to fire. She shifts in her sleep, turning away from that first hint of sun. He doesn't know if she's awake or not.        "I love you, Cee."        "Love you to, Ez," she murmurs and settles back into sleep. Ezra looks out over hoodoo country spread red tinged and stark against the rising light, the miles of road ahead. We're gonna be ok, he thinks and means it.

[mindninjax]

Hi! I read the past few chapters and they are amazing and heartfelt. The care, joy, and love shown on both reader and Bakugo’s parts truly standout. There’s so much communication between them without ever really speaking to each other. They communicate through actions, with eye contact, body movement. They especially communicate a lot with their hands. Through touch, it’s gentle and loving. Bakugo notices so many details about reader, especially with her eyes. The eyes are the keys to one’s soul, you can see so much with just one look. Emotions are conveyed not only with touch, but with the eyes as well. Bakugo truly loves reader’s eyes, dare I say it’s one of his favorite things about her. He’s sees the brightness about her and it makes him feel safe, like it makes him complete. He is in love, even if words fail him. (Jodie pointing it out to him that he’s in love was so cute)

I’m curious about this latest chapter though. As the chapter rolls on, we see that Bakugo has regressed a little bit. Now this happens and it’s not something that he should be shamed for, however, I’m questioning the reason(s) why he has regressed. Maybe because of the snowstorm his cow was sick and couldn’t help her to the best of his abilities, him missing reader and her love and heart. Did he receive a letter or call from Camie that may have set him off? Did he find out more about reader’s past (her being a successful artist) and thinks that she’s gonna leave? Maybe he thinks this is all temporary or maybe it’s self sabotage? It could be a combination of everything. Maybe he doesn’t think he’s a ‘good’ person and he doesn’t deserve reader’s kindness or love. When he said those hurtful words to her while drunk, he did feel remorseful and stunned that reader did not run away. She chose to stay because she loves him. She’s in love with Bakugo and she would never abandon someone she loves and who is afraid. She didn’t want to make the same mistake twice, she’s learned so much already from what happened with her grandfather.

I appreciate and love reader so much, especially here because it shows not only her love for Bakugo, but her growth as a person. She has learned so much about herself in these last few months and she wants to be herself, her true self in this place that she finally calls home. It’s home to her, she feels like she belongs, but she’s always belonged. Her ‘found family’ made her feel no longer like an outsider and of course the one person where she truly feels at home, the place where she feels safe and loved is with Katsuki. Katsuki believes in her just as she believes in him. They complement each other so well. They are like puzzle pieces fitting together naturally, nothing was forced into place. It’s genuine love and devotion to each other. They want the best for one another. They grow individually and together as well if that makes sense.

I think that Katsuki is genuinely afraid of getting hurt again and probably thinks that it’s too good to be true. So in a way he was trying to push reader away before he got too pulled in and was also trying to spare her of dealing with him because he feels broken. I don’t think he’s wrong for being afraid because love can be scary. Being vulnerable and putting yourself out there is quite daunting. Learning to trust again after you’ve had your heart broken, it takes time to heal. But when you allow yourself to be open and to take that step and trust again especially with the right person, is huge. While love may be scary at times, it’s also so beautiful. There are too many words to describe love, but I think you get what I’m driving at. Katsuki may have been a broken man, but so was reader. Reader was also broken at the beginning of this story and she was just going through the motions. She didn’t want to deal with her guilt and her grandfather’s death at first. She tried to run away from those feelings and ‘act’ a certain way to please people, but when these two souls met, it was like fate. They were magnets to one another. So while they may have been broken from the past, they don’t have to remain broken anymore. They can put the pieces back together and they don’t have to do it alone. They can move forward and heal.

I hope you understood my thought processes. This is an amazing, heartfelt story. So much care and love was put into this and even when it’s over, I will be reading it over and over again.

~🧜🏾‍♀️ anon~

Whew! Ok 🧜🏾‍♀️ Nonnie I cannot even begin to put in words how much this means to me and how you’ve hit everything right on the head i just… I sob.

First of all, I am SO HAPPY you mentioned the communication between them without them speaking because it is one of my favorite things to write about. Because my actual love language is physical touch I always end up sneaking in aspects of that into my writing. The way Katsu always always notices when Minnie is watching him to analyze him and how he subconsciously picks up on it and starts to do the same thing with her. It’s just ugh so romantic. To be so attuned with each other’s bodies.

The latest chapter! Ok woof, I'm gonna try not to spoil for the coming chapter. But I think this one and chapter 15 will be the most important chapters in the entire fic. I know with all the fluff and sweetness and smut (bahaha) it’s been a bit difficult to remember that Katsu…actually hasn’t dealt with any of his issues. He’s getting there, that's true and yes he has allowed himself to have feelings for reader because he realizes he can’t stop having feelings for her, but he JUST told her about what happened with Camie. Minnie loving Katsu doesn’t just erase all of those internal issues he has with that heart break and I think Chapter 14 helps you see that.

And like I wrote it that way on purpose. If the argument and his switch into being so cold and cruel to reader catches you off guard while you’re reading it is absolutely for a good reason. It is used as a way to rip you out of the “everything is perfect” bubble the two of them are in. Remember that is supposed to be “you” in this story and when he says those things to “you” it’s a lil crash back into reality.

Simply put, it’s easy to be there for someone when everything is going well, yeah? But it’s a different sort of intimate to stand in front of someone who has hurt you and still say “I’m still here.”

Please you’re gonna actually make me sob when you talk about loving and appreciating reader. She is so very special to me bahahah. I am ecstatic that you’re able to see her growth, to witness her shift from who she was in the very beginning to who she is now. In truth this is exactly why I have the chapter split up into seasons so it is easier to track how reader changes and grows over the seasons.After all, while Katsu has his own issues this is indeed Reader’s story.

Everything you’re saying about Katsu… absolutely 100% true.

I understood your entire thought process and I wanna thank you ONCE AGAIN for being in the exact same mindset as me while writing it. I appreciate you more than you will ever know! Have a FANTASTIC day!

[smol-and-grumpy]

EUPHORIA - Chapter 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: He’s Dean Winchester, owner of a shady night club. She’s a journalist who has been asked to write an article to expose the indecency and debauchery that’s going on behind closed doors. But he’s also Dean Winchester, the boy who sat next to her in class. The boy who was too cocky for his own good.

Chapter Warning: Implied Smut, consent is important, feelings, Claire is 19 in this story.

WC: 2461

A/N: This chapter fills my square‘titty fucking’ for @spnkinkbingo​​. Although it’s only mentioned. Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback. 

Beta’d by @deanwanddamons​​​​​​ <3

Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Become a Patron ~ Buy me a coffee

She follows him, is fucking relieved that she wore boots and not heels because Dean’s fucking fast and she almost has to run to keep up with him. They go up the stairs and a bouncer opens the door into the VIP room for them when he sees his boss approaching.

It’s that easy, isn’t it?

Stepping in, it feels like a whole other world opens up for her and it welcomes her in. The air is thick. It gets a little harder to breathe. She can smell a hint of arousal. Can detect the smell of bodily fluid — the sexy kind, not the nasty ones. 

The room is quite big, could easily fit one hundred people, at least, but there were about thirty if she had to guess. There’s a long couch along both walls, stretching from one end to the other, and there are groups of sofas in the middle. Dean walks ahead and she slows down, taking in her surroundings. 

There are people kissing on the couch, full on making out. A girl grinding on someone’s lap who’s still dressed but the girl is naked, there are men getting blow jobs. One girl is receiving oral whilst getting her big tits fucked. Y/N can’t stop watching them but eventually, she tears her eyes away. She’s sure that someone is fucking right at the end of the couch in a dimly lit corner and then there’s also people engaging in an orgy right in the middle of the room like it’s no fucking big deal. While she stops to scan the room, her eyes find a familiar face. 

Claire. 

She’s sitting in a guy’s lab, while she turns her head to kiss him and there’s another woman with her face buried between Claire’s thighs. Oh wow, Y/N thought she was only a waitress. Maybe the mother wasn’t exaggerating after all. 

“You coming?” Dean returns to be by her side. 

“I— y—eah,” She stammers but can’t quite take her eyes off of the crowd. She feels hot all of a sudden and there’s something tingling between her thighs. She realizes that seeing these things turns her on so fucking much. Like, she’s never seen anything like it.

Dean chuckles and takes her by the hand to whisk her to another door but she’s still staring until they are out of that room. 

They pass a girl sitting on a tiny desk with a laptop on it as they walk along a big hallway, with rooms left and right and Dean’s still so fast, she can’t even take a real look at the little windows with light spilling out of them. Even though she’s sure that she’s not allowed to look anyway but still...

There are little red and green lights lined above the respective doors and putting two and two together if she’d have to guess, she thinks it’s to signal if the room’s occupied or free.  The guests probably have to book the rooms with the girl who runs the front desk. 

The hallway is long, and there are about two dozen rooms with numbers on them and nothing else. No description of what they could find in there. Maybe they’re just all bedrooms? She doesn’t know but she needs to find out.

He pulls her along with him until they finally come to a halt at another door. This place is a fucking maze. She wonders if she’ll find her way back, probably would need to ask Dean for a fucking map. Dean punches in a code and goes in, his hand still holding hers tight as they walk up a staircase until they reach yet another door. He goes in and she realizes that they are in some sort of office. 

Dean lets go of her hand and she takes in the room. There are several screens with security camera footage, a big wooden desk with a huge office chair. He probably saw her coming. She’s sure that the bouncer called him up.

In the middle of the room is a big couch, off to the side is a little bar. 

“Please take a seat,” Dean says and walks over to his bar to pour himself a drink, “You want anything?”

“No, thanks.” She replies, she’s not really a drinker. She usually only has one drink and that’s enough because she’s always been afraid that she’ll end up like her mother — dead.

“So,” He says, turns back to her with a tumbler in his hand, brown liquid sloshing inside, “What are you doing here, Y/N?”

“What do you mean?” She frowns.

“It’s just, I don’t think you’re the nightlife kinda girl,” He shrugs and sits down on the couch next to her. 

Well, he’s not wrong. Damn him.

“To tell you the truth,” She starts to say, thinking that it’s maybe good if she tells him what’s going on. She knows him. Dean was always straight forward with her at school, “I’ve been tipped off and now I’m investigating.”

“Here?” He cocks an eyebrow.

“I have received a call from someone who was very upset that their daughter worked here and they think that you’re probably making them do things they don’t want to.”

Dean’s face changes. He looks a little hurt. She can’t really read him though. With Dean, you only see what he wants you to see. It’s always been like that.

After a while, he opens his mouth to speak, “‘S that way you’re here? Because you think I’m a pimp?” 

“No,” She says, “I don’t think that but maybe you can clear it up, prove me wrong.”

Dean rubs a hand over his scruff, thinks about it, “You’re a journalist now, right?” Dean raises his eyebrows at her.

“Yeah,”

“Congratulations! That’s what you always wanted to do, isn’t it? You were attending creative writing, too. I remember seeing you on the playground writing under the big tree after school.”

“Well, not really what I always wanted, but writing novels apparently isn’t that rewarding,” She shrugs with a weak smile. Doesn’t want to really go into detail about the playground remark because she doesn’t want to reveal to him that the reason she did that, was because she was avoiding going home.

Dean frowns but then he changes the subject back, “Let me guess the one that tipped you off, it’s Jody Mills, right? Claire’s stepmother?”

Her eyes widened, “How do you know?”

“The woman has been raging on and on since Claire started to work here. Came by too many times to get Claire to go back with her but Claire likes it here. She loves working for me.”

“She loves being pimped out?” 

Dean throws his head back and laughs, she doesn’t think it’s funny at all. 

“Y/N,” He says after a while and she likes how her name sounds off his lips, “Consent is very important here. It’s like a mantra we use. Nothing happens without consent and my employees know that. I would never make them do anything they don’t want to do. They don’t take orders from me. They are old enough to decide what they do or don’t do.”

“Or who they do,” She mumbles and Dean has to grin.

“Look, the VIP room is what it says on the tin. It’s strictly for very important people. It’s difficult to get on that list, difficult to stay on the list. They want absolute secrecy and in turn, they play by my rules. They undergo a tough background check, they get tested regularly, and if someone behaves just a little out of place, they get kicked out immediately. The list of new people want to get a spot is so fucking long. I look out for my people, Y/N. Everyone knows the rules and knows not to cross the line. What I’m doing is legal and I have a license for it. There’s no harm in giving people what they really want and can’t act upon at home. And no, I don’t have underage girls working for me, neither do I have pedophiles on the list. Like I said, I have employed three private investigators and they will find anything unusual if there is anything to find. I like being thorough.”

“Okay,” She says, and it’s weird. She kind of believes him. Maybe because she saw Claire. Saw how the girl was smiling while she’s been eaten out, and Y/N had the feeling that the girl clearly enjoyed being sandwiched between a man and a woman.

No wonder, Y/N thinks. Perhaps she would enjoy it too, can’t lie about it. There’s still a tingly feeling between her thighs and she presses them together, trying not to be obvious.

“Listen, what I can offer is, if you still have to write that piece or article, then you at least can do it right. I will show you everything in the club. I can show you every room. I can get you alone time with my employees and you can ask them questions. I’m not hiding anything.”

“Okay, that sounds fair.” 

“There’s one condition.” 

“What?”

He smirks, “I can’t obviously show you everything tonight, because we’re open and it’s not long before all the rooms will be occupied. I want you to come in another day before the club opens, I can show you around then.”

“Yeah, okay.” She agrees.

“Great,” He says and he stands up after they agree on it and exchange numbers, waiting for her to do the same, “Come on, I’ll take you back. I have a meeting to attend.” He places a hand on the small of her back and ushers her to the door. Dean leans down to whisper into her ear, “And try not to get too aroused walking through the VIP room, alright?”

She looks up at him with raised eyebrows and flush cheeks. He chuckles. 

Dean takes her hand again, probably doesn’t want her to stall because as he said, he has a meeting to attend. He walks her to the door that separates the VIP room from the normal club and looks down at her, he’s still smirking because she’s probably more flustered than before. 

He lowers his face to whisper into her ear, “You’re turned on, aren’t you?”

Ugh, she hates that he knows. 

Y/N doesn’t say anything though, instead she looks down and gnaws on her bottom lip. 

He chuckles and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear before he leans down again, “Is it okay if I kiss your cheek?”

Wow, consent is apparently really important. 

She nods her head, because there’s nothing wrong with it, right? Dean’s a good looking man, too good probably — with his suit that looks like it’s been sewed onto him — and she’s turned on, there’s no harm in kissing one's cheek.

Dean smiles, a breath of hot air hits her skin and he leans down, kisses her cheek. His lips feel soft on her skin, his scruff a little on the rougher side but it’s nice. It makes her heart flutter, the tingling feeling between her legs intensifies. 

“You’re still as cute as I remember,” Dean whispers before he stands up straight and has to clear his throat after. 

Y/N doesn’t say anything, she can’t because she’s too flustered. 

“See you soon, Y/N.” He smiles that easy smile of his before he opens the door and closes it behind her.

  Dean hurries back into his office, ignoring a woman who called out for him to join them. It’s one of his employees, he guesses, but he doesn’t look. He thinks it’s kind of stupid too, because he never did join in, what makes them think that he would now. 

Well, having a boner, yeah, maybe that gave it away, and his dress pants don’t really conceal much, he realizes when he looks down on himself as he makes his way back. 

He sits back into his chair at his desk, pulls up some camera footage to watch her over his monitor. He watches her until she leaves. 

When she’s gone, Dean sighs and bends down, leaving his forehead on his desk.

Fuck.

He never thought that he'd meet her again in his life. Never thought that she’d be the one looking out for him. And now that she’s here, he feels things that he had buried deep within himself. 

It’s a stupid high school crush, he tries to tell himself. She’s probably changed and so had he, right? 

Yeah, right. She changed. She’s even cuter now and she has something vulnerable about her. Something that wakes the protective instincts in him. He senses that there’s more to the girl with no friends in high school, more to the girl who turned him down when he was about to ask her out to prom — which he didn’t want to attend in the first place but if she would have wanted to, he would have taken her out. There’s something about her that makes him want to know more, makes him want to know what and who hurt her. If it was a guy, Dean would also like to rip that guys fucking lungs out. 

But there’s also something about her that shows that she became a strong woman. She was holding eye contact when he talked to her, something she never did while in school. He also didn’t feel like she was intimidated by him, which speaks volumes because most people are. 

She’s something he’d like to explore, he can’t lie about that. His body can’t lie about that either, apparently, because he popped a boner as soon as he kissed her cheek, which never happened and he thinks it’s stupid. He’s not a fucking teenager anymore, he thinks that he should be able to control himself better.

It’s stupid of him though, to tell her that he wants to show her everything. He doesn’t even know what to show her, where to fucking start. All he knew at that moment was that he wanted to see her again and him showing her his club was just a lame excuse on his part. He doesn’t think that her article would harm him. He told her the truth when he said that he has got nothing to hide. 

Now if he could get his dick in check when she shows up next, that would be fabulous.

Of course the meeting was a lie. He just didn’t know how he could be around her without ripping the clothes from her body. He needs time to think about his next moves. Time to train his body to not act like a seventeen years old when he’s around her. 

Chapter 3

[collectionofcherries]

👀 i see that you take requests for Billy Loomis from Scream and i am here for that. How about some intense fluff (lol)? maybe what a day spent with his s/o would be like?? could devolve into steamy if you want 👀

Honestly everyone should be here for Billy Loomis. Everyone’s favourite greasy rat boy. ---

Pronouns: Unmentioned however this is written Female!Reader centric and contains feminine words like giggle and association with other women. Warnings: Kissing, fluff, light mention of murder, a literal sprinkle of angst, nothing out of the norm for a Slasher centric fic. Again I think I'm funny so that's a warning. Word Count: 2,226 ---

   “You know one of these days I'm gonna get a lock for that window and force you to use the door.” You remark loudly as you hear it slide open.    You don't even need to move from laying face down in your bed to know it's Billy, who else comes in through a window? “I thought it was romantic you know that whole Romeo and Juliet thing, there's a window somewhere in there, right?”    You can't help but to laugh and turn your head to look at him. “Are you talking about 'what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun'?” You asked.    “Sure.” He says as he plops down on the bed beside you. “Romantic right?” He teases arching a brow at you.    “Funny enough I don't think Romeo was talking about breaking and entering.” You remark.    “He broke into Juliet's place, didn't he?”    “You'd know if you didn't sleep in English class.”    “What do I need to be awake for? I speak it.”    You roll your eyes to spite your smile. “How about we skip the romantic lessons that ended up with two people dead?” You pitch.    He shrugs a little, his eyes looking around the room before settling on you. “Death can be romantic, what's so wrong with that?” He weighs in.    “I thought you liked horror not romance.” You point out as you roll yourself over onto your back. “Unless you're trying to tell me you wanna watch the Titanic instead of IT?” You tease.    He rolls his eyes at you but you can see the corners of his mouth are turned up. “We're watching IT?” He remarks.    “Yes because if I have to watch The Exorcist one more time I'm going to start puking.” You say pointedly, you love him but you can't keep watching that movie.    He lets out a scoff. “Maybe I was wrong about you liking romance seems like you're going for drama.”    You shove his shoulder and he grabs the hand you use to do so. “I thought you'd love IT, it's got your two favourite things” You point out and he arches a brow at you skeptically as he laces his fingers with your own. “Murder and clowns.” You insist.    “Clowns?”    “You're best friends with Stu, you have to love clowns.” You giggle sticking your tongue out in glee at your own joke.    “Yeah we'll stick with horror you're not great with comedy.” He says rolling his eyes.    Before you have a chance to insist you're hilarious cause you are he leans down and kisses you, guess you'll have to make a point of how funny you are later. And judging by the heat of his kisses he's hoping for much later. Billy's kisses are deep, to spite his standoff-ish nature he practically shatters bones with how close he wants to be to you in times of intimacy but even with his desperate need to lose himself in it he relishes every moment and takes his time, never in a rush, hands never too grabby as they explore you, if you let him he'll take his time for hours. But your body seems to have a different idea as to what it should be filled with as your stomach breaks the sizzling silence with a loud growl that makes you both laugh a little. “Maybe horror is what we should stick with.” You pant out.    Earning a breathy chuckle from him. "No arguments from me, long as it's rated R.”    If he wasn't so pretty above you, you'd roll your eyes. But he is so pretty. Brown hair coming down in shiny if not a little greasy strands that frame his face, warm brown eyes turned up at the corners from his smile, Billy is just...warm, everything about him is warm, especially the way he practically melts into the hand you bring up to cradle his face. “Sounds like you're trying to get out of my movie pick.” You point out, jokingly pouting out your bottom lip.    “I did bring Psycho.” He offers.    He's not pretty enough to stop that eye roll. “We've watched Psycho like a dozen times now.”    “Yeah, we know it so well we don't have to pay attention.” He points out running his tongue across his teeth and looking you over to get his point across.    “If you wanna get it, you're gonna have to watch IT.” You decide.    He sighs but his smile doesn't leave his face. “Alright, alright, we'll watch your

clown movie.”     He sits up and you follow halfway, letting go of his hand to drag yourself up to lean back on your elbows. “I thought you were gonna bring pizza this week, I brought it last week.” You point out as you realize he's empty handed.    Your stomach certainly seems to notice as it lets out another squelch. “You didn't hear?”    “Hear what?”    “Pizza place closed down, one of the workers in there got murdered.” He said his words dragging out slowly.    “Did they say who? When'd this happen?” You ask as shock rocketed through you, you were there literally last week!    “News said it was that Alex kid” And it seemed to spite his death Billy still had distain in his voice for him. “You know the one.” And you just nodded as you took that in, Alex had been working there as long as you'd been going. “He had it coming.”    “What?” Was all that made it out of you.    “He had it coming.” He said again this time looking right at you. “That kid was creep, the way he looked at you, the shit he said.” He pointed out, this wasn't the first time Billy had gotten angry about Alex or any other guy that flirted with you for that matter but Alex always made his blood boil and if you thought about it-...if you were being fair, he made you mad too, he just never knew when enough was enough. “You know I'm right, you can't tell me I'm not.”    You took what felt like a painful breath as you tried to think of what to say back, words started to form but they never finished as your brain grappled with the idea of Alex's death. “Did they say what happened?” Finally came out.    Maybe some other girl had just had enough, maybe it'd been quick...maybe then it wouldn't seem so bad. “Gutted like the pig he was.” So much for it not seeming so bad. "Happened when he was closing down, idiot left the back door open...I mean what'd he expect to happen?” He scoffed shaking his head. “Wasn't much of a fight, pretty quick...bloody though.” He said his eyes slipping from you to roam around, not particularly focused on anything. “Couldn't tell the difference from all that blood and the marinara sauce.” A quiet chuckle making it's way out of him at the end. “Found bits of him in the oven too.”    “That was all on the news?” You breathed out, the words leaving your mouth without your permission.    But the question hung in the air for what felt like too long, Billy's eyes not meeting yours for too long. “Uh-huh.” Finally made it's way out of him as he chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment. “You know how Gale Weathers reports, that bitch loves those details.”     You nod but there's an uncomfortableness that sits in your chest that you're desperate to get away from. “Chinese it is then tonight huh?” You try to tease.    “So, you're not too sad about the Pizza place shutting down?” He asks finally looking over at you.    Out of all the things to be concerned about...but that was real concern in Billy's eyes. “It's probably for the best...I mean even if it opened up again I don't know if I could eat there again knowing about the...pizza sauce.” You said swallowing hard at the end trying your best not to picture it.    “They could rename it Hannibal Lecter's Pizza Place.” He pitched smiling at you.    Your gag is half real as you sit up fully. “Yeah, remember how I said I'm not gonna read that book? Well I'm really not gonna read it now.” You say making a disgusted face at him.    “You'd like it, Clarice makes me think of you.”     You maul over that, it's not a bad thing to be compared to Jodie Foster but not knowing the context you weren't sure how to feel. “I don't know exactly what that means but I'll take it as you saying I'm as hot as Jodie Foster and not that you're gonna eat me.”     “He doesn't eat Jodie Foster.” He points out rolling his eyes at you.    “Oh good.”    “You know one of the only reasons he even talks to her is cause one of the other guys in the nut house flicks cum at her.” Maybe it was a good thing you hadn't eaten cause another gag made it's way out of you. “And he finds it really fuckin'

rude...he doesn't say it but I think he would've killed him if he had the chance.” He says nodding a little to himself. “I would've.” He adds shrugging and before you can even really take that in he's talking again. “Anyway, the story is kinda about getting under someone's skin, understanding the way they think...the way they are...no one really does that besides Clarice you know? She understands him, she's horrified but she understands him.” And his eyes found yours once again, they're intense to spite his seemingly relaxed posture. “She makes me think of you because you get me.”    How could something so sweet come across so dark? A smile makes it's way across your lips to spite your confusion...you do get Billy, you know him, you love him. These weird horror movie references are just how he gets by in the world and comes to understand himself...how you’ve come to understand him and this is no different. You're convinced you're thinking way too much over what he's saying, he's just trying to talk to you in his own way. Yeah that's it. The breath that was painfully sitting in your chest escapes you and you reach over to hold his hand again and you realize the intense look in his eyes isn't something that should scare you, it's familiar, you've seen it before it's just the way he looks when he's yearning for physical intimacy and now it's melted into the same warm look you know so well. “I'm still not gonna read it...but next week it is your turn to pick a movie.” You point out. “Can't stop you from bringing it over.”     He smiles and you can't help but to smile back at him, he raises his free hand to cradle your face and this time its your turn to melt into his palm as he leans in and kisses you. Whatever worry you had is drowned out by the taste of love on his lips. “You're not gonna leave me too right? You can't...you're the only one who understands.” It sounds needy as it's said between kisses.    You know what he means, it's something that's been brought up before, all his anger and resentment for his mother leaving seemingly out of the blue makes him unsure of so much. It's not often he needs reminding that you're not going anywhere but every time he does it breaks your heart to hear all the desperation in his voice. “I'm not going anywhere.” You promise.    This usually leads to sex that leaves you both almost physically unable to go anywhere and as clothes are starting to be fisted off, your stomach once again decides it too has desperation its desperation to eat! And once again you both pull back to laugh. “I might go into the living room to use the phone to call for Chinese.” You half tease.    He chuckles as he rolls off of you. “Guess that's alright.” He teases back.    You both lay there for a moment trying to catch your breath and find the energy to leave this bed but the odds stack even further against you as you feel his thumb smooth over the top of your hand that he's still holding. “You know I think I can hear Stu crying.” You joke making Billy look at you like you've got 5 heads. “I'm the only one who understands you? I mean he's gotta be crying.” You clear.    He laughs shaking his head. “Yeah, comedy isn't for you.” He reminds.    “You're wrong and saying so has cost you your egg roll.” You decide and he looks at you with a look that can only be describes as 'really?' “Stu finds me funny, maybe I'll order him an egg roll.” You point out as you get up.    “Stu finding you funny doesn't mean anything, Stu thinks he's hysterical.” He scoffs    “Well, he is hysterical.” You scoff back at him. “Now tell me I'm funny or I'm taking away your dumplings next.”     “I'd kill you for that.” He says looking at you smiling a little. “So...be careful, your life could be in my hands.”     “Yeah well your Chinese Food is in my hands.” You teasingly threaten back putting your hands on your hips.    His smile broadens. “That was kinda funny.”  --- ~Admin Coral🍒 Buy Me A Coffee?

[flyandfamousblackgirls]

RASHIDA RENEÉ WANTS YOU TO KNOW YOUR HISTORY by  Alexis Rene Moten (Culture Jock)

Let’s start this article with a quiz: Name a Black model from the 1990’s that isn’t Naomi Campbell or Tyra Banks?

Stumped? It’s safe to say that if the question were asked to name a White model that wasn’t Kate Moss or Cyndi Crawford, best case scenario you would’ve excelled with a list to provide. Maybe something like: Linda Evangelista, Claudia Schiffer, Christy Turlington, Shalom Harlow, Carla Bruni, Heidi Klum..you get my point.

At times, Pop Culture can be a fair-weather friend. Monday’s It-girl becomes Friday’s nobody and by Sunday there’s a new hot thing in town to get all the girls in a fuss. But as nostalgia-trends rises as capitalism’s newest enterprise, endorsed largely by social media app, Instagram, history is being retold by the agenda of it’s curator. The selective hearing of  Instagram accounts like @90scelebvibes (391K followers) and @90sanxiety (793K followers) present a facade that the past was rather beige, leaving largely out the credit due to the Black and people of color creatives that developed and inspired the trends imitated today.

Bay area based, Fashion archivist Rashida Reneé, takes on self-love to a familial level celebrating her love and the appreciation of Black designers, models and other fashion industry influencers that otherwise go forgotten in our modern culture. In fashion, as in anything else, things old become anew. However, Reneé takes on the responsibility as a trend gatekeeper, providing evidence of what fashion used to be and recognizing the faces we longed forgotten.  

Q: Name a Black model from the 1990’s that isn’t Naomi Campbell or Tyra Banks?

A: Beverly Peele,  Gail O’Neill, Iman, Kara, Young, Karen Alexander,  Louise Vyent, Roshumba, Veronica Webb, etc.

Culture Jock: What is a typical day for the most hated hoe in the city?

RR: (laughs) It’s weird, I kind of like to keep it to myself. Keep track of what I like and my thoughts. I don’t know. I'm very low-key person in real life, but when I do leave the house (pauses) I do, I promise! I just like my personal time, but when it’s time to be out I am present, as much as possible. I do what I do becauseII like giving information to people and give them links and information just so they know.

CJ: What brought you into fashion archiving?

RR: My whole archiving process was originally for myself and filling in spots of information where there it was empty of black people. Of course, there is street fashion, but in terms of online fashion, sites like Manrepeller, you didn’t see a lot of black girls doing it and the people doing it I thought were lame. Finding other black people who weren’t anti-black in those kind of spaces. I felt a lot of people were trying to make us to assimilate. Everyone was kind of like doing the same things and it was like, ‘Naomi Campbell!’ But if it were any other dark girl it didn’t matter. So, I started my own blog and then I had to stop myself from posting Naomi Campbell’s photos too. I would do one picture of Naomi Campbell a day and try to really give props to other black woman involved and black people in general. When I was younger I was familiar with the other models not just Naomi Campbell, my mom was really in it with Naomi. She worked in a beauty salon, which had magazines of all the models. Like, black hair magazines, they always listed the models so, no matter what you knew who they were. Whoever it was in the 90s, ‘this is who that is and this who that is.’ You’d see the oldest Destiny Child’s video shoots in black hair magazines. I just haven’t seen other people doing that. There are other girls now that focus more on Hip Hop in 90s and 2000s. Livejournal, fashion spot, Tumblr, people didn’t go out of their way to scan the black models or even try to name them. It’s funny, people online, they don’t even try to hide their biases. No one was really fashion blogging the way I like or how I see .

CJ:In your piece for Office Magazine you mention, from Patrick Kelley to today’s influence of Dapper Dan, American culture from its roots drips of Black influence and culture. Why do you think Black culture is so immutable and where do you see the ownership of our creations.

RR: People I mean know, it’s just like, it’s weird and odd to even talk about. Not just people referencing me or copying, I feel like I am being gaslit all the time or being told that. People love stealing from black people. People love stealing from black people. People love stealing from black people and lying about it. People hate black people but they think we are cool. I can’t even (pauses)yeah it’s very weird. The twitter thing is weird (sighs).

CJ: It is weird.

RR: (sighs) It’s not really helping them. It’s boring to live with no personality. To see someone interesting and steal from them to bolster themselves. [On social media] we have the means to share with each other, like, moments that are of shared experiences of oppression and that is even imitated. I don’t know why the copy of things are okay. It is such a multi-layered thing. Or the way the Stans talk like mainly the Black queer and Black trans talk and how all of that is now being used by everyone. Ariana Grande, ya know, icons talk like girls on the ballrooms did back in 2006. Parodying things. It helps them develop their own brand, I don’t understand their fascination with us anyway. I’m into my own shit and own culture. I like the way black people express themselves and other people use us and what we do to talk to each other or communicate and then take that to feel cool. I’ve always been,like, ‘why would someone want to be like this?’ or pretend. I don’t get it. People run out of content. I know people used to make fun of me and the things I used to be and ironically they are into it now. People need to find their own hobbies. They are bored.

CJ: The internet is complex. It’s a parody of itself.

RR: Knowing your history is important. You need to know where you came from to know where you are going. When it comes to fashion archives the question is, ‘what is it that you are looking for or trying to highlight?’ My concern is that fashion archiving is feeding into nostalgic trends, where it’s easier to mimic what was done before rather then create new moments. Do you share the same sentiments?

CJ: What is it about fashion that excites you?

RR: It’s so fun and so funny. The dolls are taking over. That’s how most things go, the things that happened come back with a hyper focus. It really is going full out now. It’s interesting to see how people are dressing now. [Fashion] is always reflective of the political climate. Think about the 80s everyone is dressing like a dickhead. Then when people got sick of dressing like a dickhead, minimalism comes in. We cycle through trends so fast, today. I remember a girl wearing a hair clips and no one was into it. Then the next week everyone was wearing them, then I see Cyndi Lauper in an interview wearing hair clips. She’s like 50-something and she’s wearing hair clips made out of Swarovski crystals. It’s so interesting. It’s funny how it happens. Now everyone is into fashion.

CJ: Who are your biggest fashion influences ?

RR: My biggest influences are Naomi Campbell and my mom. Girls I follow on the internet. My mom is from San Francisco lives her own life and is very eclectic. I get a lot from her and different taste. Foxy Brown is also very inspiring, I reference her a lot I think about her and Steven Miesel. Steven knows how to do everything. Steven can do everything. Everyone knows I am a crazy Beyoncé fan. But, I have different girls for different moods. My main inspo is Naomi and Foxy Brown. I really gravitated to Foxy because she was more into Prada and Chloe when Stella McCartney was there. Because of Foxy I love Chloe. She was very cool. Naomi is, you just aspire to that level of greatness. There is no one else. Even in her flaws she handles them so well. I can’t imagine someone else with that kind of rap sheet to not get fully canceled. I judge people by how they react to criticism. She handles it really well. I find that really inspiring.

CJ: What film or television do you think has the best fashion catalog? If you could what character's closet would you love to raid?

RR: I am so frazzled. There’s so much stuff I like. I write things down specifically, because I can never remember. I watched The Nanny last year with Fran Drescher, when I was really depressed and was like, ‘Wow this is inspiring.’ Brenda Cooper, her mind. Everyone had a look in. Pose, is another one. Everything has intentions from the main characters to the background characters. I really like the first season of costume design. It’s commitment to that era. Someone is always dressed like, Karen White or Jodi Whitley. Elektra is very dynasty, that high lady energy. I love that about the show. I love Glow, the costume designer, Beth Morgan. I love when people do era shows, specifically the 80s and they don’t try to soften it, especially in makeup or hair. They aren’t scared to embrace the ugliness, I love that. That’s what good costume design is about. High fashion is easy, but what really gets me is watching old movies and looking at the clothes.  

CJ: We are moving into a new decade of 2020. I have a feeling it may be the year of 2020 vision and final clarity. What are your aspirations for this new era and what do you hope to see from the world?

RR: I feel like the children are our future. That’s what I’m looking at, to see what the kids are into. People are more focused into what they look like and I remember if someone dressed a little bit out of fashion it was a huge deal and get talked about. But now they are embracing their weirdness and experimenting. Do you watch that Tik Tok stuff? I just want a regular life. Happy, healthy, all my kids are happy and healthy. When I move to [Los Angeles] and get hotter, hotter and I want to  become, what is that called, a wellness person? I want a Goop moment, but with Solange aesthetics. Maybe make a propaganda film to get people to stop wearing wigs.

[tintentrinkerin]

Harness & Spears

Chapter 5: Father’s Eyes

missed a chapter? Check out my Masterlist or AO3

Researching for a case a year after they quit first feels weird to Sam, he has to get used to all the programs, his usual agenda. Today it’s so much easier with some computer skills. No more libraries, no more grainy scans of articles in local papers. Today, you just have to open a search engine app on your phone or a computer and you will be able to find dozens of cases in an hour or two. Of course, there’s still the work of sorting the wheat from the chaff, but Jack is a big help. They sit in the library together and go search for cases. Cas is really sweet to them, just like a butler he offers hot beverages and sandwiches, even though Sam must really hold him back to go full on “Yes, sir”. They want a case, and there are hundreds of them, but also, after Jack became God he brought all the hunters back that Chuck had banished. Donna and Jody, a couple now, as they announced just months after Jack’s ascend, and her girls, all in the hunter business. They heard from Eileen sporadically, but after all that happened and how uneasy Sam felt about the whole manipulation (and he was absolutely certain Chuck pulled the strings there, even though, when they originally met, Sam was drawn to her - but nothing more), she kept her distance and operated in Ireland and also all over Europe. The hunters from the other universe also just hunted in small groups. Charlie and her girlfriend retired for good. And Sam was still bitter about his own behaviour - projecting ‘his’ Charlie on this woman, who was so much different. He knew she hacked some computers every now and then to prank some potential Dicks. Sam was connected to the hunters, most of them. He has been clear about him and Dean, Cas (and later Jack) not going hunting anymore. But now things changed and Sam needed to check if any other hunters were on the cases him and Jack might find interesting. Running in another couple of hunting buddies is not a problem on a personal level, but the mutual sabotage will happen. It’s Murphy’s Law. That’s why Sam has a plan. They will take cases other hunters wouldn’t like to do. There are several reasons for hunting in the first place and reasons which cases to pursue and which not. Let noble monster hunting and cleansing the world be some hunter’s motivation, revenge, the thrill (some people really were that sick and hunted monsters for the kicks) and of course. The money. Oh yes, the money. But the Winchester conglomerate doesn’t worry about money, that’s why Sam won’t look for cases that have to do with wealthy people or towns announcing rewards. Also, when he knew the kind of monster and that a lot of hunters were after these creatures for killing their kin or loved ones, he better didn’t interfere. You could hunt monsters for their venom or psychic abilities, their blessings or whatever. Something a friend of Dean did not so long ago and got himself killed for it.

It shouldn’t be anything exotic, the New Age brought new monsters, at least that’s what Jack says.

“I was God, yes, and I knew everything that Chuck knew, but believe it or not, not even Chuck knew all of his creatures. His mind is packed with the stuff he wanted to do or not to do - if you ask me he was a little like George R. R. Martin. Got lost in his own massive universe and all the detail. I tried to give all of it structure, that’s why some things on Earth changed, but after some time I thought my head would explode and I uh, outsourced some good stuff in new universes. Amara is way better in doing all of that, she created way more universes and new forms of life as I did. She and her brother - don’t get me started.”

Jack looks exhausted. “Does it sound weird, Sam? That I wanted to be down here with you, all of you, but especially you, and give Amara all that power?”

Sam smiles about Jack’s outbreak and that he obviously read Game of Thrones. “No, it’s not weird. You were with Amara and I bet she’s very pleasant company but she wasn’t what you longed for. You didn’t want to be God who’s in every drop of rain, and all that. It was noble and pure hearted and generous of you to try, but you were allowed to fail. But, speaking of Game of Thrones, I have a few questions regarding--”

Sam is rudely interrupted in his chatter with Jack when Dean comes into the library and sits down two chairs away from Jack. Jack immediately gets up.

“Uh, Sam, I will -errm, go pack my bags. I think you will find a good case.”

Sam sighs.

“I’ll be with you soon, baby. Just gimme a minute.”

Jack is quick as a flash and out of sight within seconds.

Dean scoffs while thudding his mug on the table. Coffee pours out and stains the wood.

“Easy on the furniture Dean, it’s not your enemy”, Sam says without looking up. He can’t show Dean his face right now or he will just erupt. He feels the heat in his cheeks and a hot tickle up his neck. Since Dean threw a mug after Sam yesterday they haven’t seen each other and to be frank, Sam could totally renounce any other encounter with Dean for a while. Plus, Sam has a hickey, because Jack went a little passionate, clingy and possessive last night, for whatever reason.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt you and… baby. ” The last word is like venom. As always. Dean wants to start another fight.

“I remember that I heard you calling Cas ‘daddy’ multiple times. You think that was really soothing for my wild imagination?”

“You call Jack what he is. A baby.”

“Another word, Dean, and you know I’ll knock you out. I have enough of your bullshit. You act like a jealous housewife. No, wait, more like a cuck!”

Dean scoffs and leaves.

“Do whatever you want, but don’t do it when I’m around or I’ll tear him apart.”

Sam sits here in shock. He has heard a lot from Dean about Jack, he has always been nasty to him and yes, even threatened to kill him twice, even was willing to execute him as part of Chuck’s evil plan. Yes, he was bitter about Mary and hell, how bitter Dean has been as Jack brought so many people back. All the ‘others’: Bobby and Charlie with her girlfriend. All these people. He brought Eileen back, and Dean thought it was to make Sam happy (and yes, that has been Jack’s intention, but ultimately it didn’t) and he was resistant to the arguments, that Mary was happy with John, she didn’t want to go back in this world she never felt like she fit in. He couldn’t be comforted by the messages Jack as a medium brought to Dean, that Mary loved him no matter what and that she will be happy when they meet again. Nothing could’ve soothed Dean’s aching. Sam understands that he’s hurt, but now, it just feels like Dean is angry at Jack for simply existing and then being so bold to love Sam.

Jack brought Cas back for Dean. He had risked a feud with the Empty that could only be avoided by Amara and Jack forcefully put the Regent of the Empty asleep. The Empty wasn’t sealed though, Rowena still reigned in hell, and still demons went to the Empty. But there are no angels on Earth anymore, Jack has naphil powers and even Cas regained some faint strength back, but Jack didn’t make new angels.

Jack really built a world in which it was possible for Dean and Cas to be together, he risked being invaded and maybe killed, since no one knows how really powerful the Empty was.

Why is nothing Jack does, no matter how universe shattering, unbelievably cosmic and holy and insane it is, not finally letting Dean the old grudge go?

It seems like everything he does just makes it worse.

Sam hides his face and in the safety of his own palms he allows to cry in fear for his own spiteful brother and soulmate. This will end badly if they don’t find a way to reconcile.

“You have to stop that, Dean” Cas says when Dean is back in the Deancave.

Cas is in his robe, nothing beneath. He looks pale and a little skinny. The last weeks have been hard on him and Dean knows it’s his fault. He makes his angel boyfriend sick. And yet he’s sick himself, and he’s kicking and fighting, with talons and teeth, words and throwing things after his brother. Also, he erupts the second Cas dares to mention it.

“Stop with what?”, he asks.

He picks the remote and wants to turn on the TV, loud metal music blasting but with a snap of a finger, the TV silent and it won’t turn back on.

“Castiel. Don’t fuck with me, I swear, I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re ‘not in the mood’ for weeks, maybe months. Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong? Why won’t you let me help?”

Dean’s eyes narrow dangerously as he faces the seraph.

“Help? How could you help? My brother fucks a toddler.”

Cas sighs and it sounds so endlessly sad. Defeated. Dean doesn’t want to see it, acknowledge it, that he is indeed very wrong. Jack is no toddler, Jack is no brat, Jack is so mighty he could really smite the whole bunker with a hiccup still, even though he’s not God anymore. Dean should be so damn careful. Dean should see how much Jack begs for his forgiveness and his approval.

But Dean can’t. And Dean won’t.

“Dean.”

Dean is so full of sorrow and fear, it hurts to hear his own name so gentle, so loving yet somehow fatherly. Cas loves him and Dean should be happy. He has been happy. The Empty had taken him away and Jack had fought to get him back. So they could be a family.

But this isn’t family to Dean. He’s around the person he loves the most, the person he loves with a burning, blinding insanity. He will never be happy like this.

Cas dares to come closer, around two steps away, offers Dean a hand. Dean can’t even look at him but he takes Cas’s hand and then pulls him in a desperate embrace.

“Shit, ‘m sorry, Cas. I don’t want to fight with you.”

It’s been a while, actually the last time Dean slept with Cas was the night when Jack asked him if Sam gay. This question is carved under his skin and if you look closely, you can see them shine through like thin red scars.

The streak won’t break today either.

“Will he ever stop hating me?”, Jack asks.

He has his suitcase packed, same as a backpack with snacks, water, headphones, his teddy Marvelous Marvin, a powerbank and, something he’s very proud of - his own angel blade. The only angels on earth are Jack and Castiel but the blade kills monsters just as well. He kneads the bundle of the purple blanket in his lap when he looks up to Sam.

Sam’s still tense from before, his eyes red and narrow, Sam must look like he didn’t sleep much or has been on a bender.

“I don’t know… I wish I knew what’s wrong with him.”

With a deep sigh Sam sinks beside Jack on the mattress. The bed creaks and a spring nudges in Sam’s butt cheek. Either they need a new mattress or they move in a room together, but Sam doesn’t dare to talk about these things yet. So far, he’s happy about the privacy. But he’s also constantly longing for Jack - a stalemate.

Jack leans against Sam’s shoulder and shyly feels for Sam’s hand. Sam is too glad to take it, intertwine their fingers and kiss Jack’s knuckles.

“It makes me sick, Sam. I’m afraid all the time he’s around. I’m afraid he might want to…”

“Hurt you?”

Jack nods, his lips a thin line.

“I won’t let him. And most of all, you won’t let him. Right?”

Another silent nod.

“Don’t worry about it now, our bags are packed and I found a case. I told you about the parameters I used to find a case no one else would investigate, and this one here is especially weird, but not weird enough for us to follow, and a bit boring, but not boring enough for us to NOT follow it. We’ve been to haunted houses before, right?”

“Yes, it’s mostly vengeful spirits or poltergeists, right?”

Sam nods. “Yes, exactly. Sometimes triggered by the plans of tearing the house down, the same can happen with big bodies of water, when they are threatened to be dried out, spirits of people who drowned will start going on a rampage. Haunted houses are like level 1 of every hunter. Rocksalt, shotgun, holy water, fire. Boom, ghost gone.”

Jack frowns a little. “Really, we’re going on a case that any newbie hunter could solve?”

Sam chuckles.

“Yep.”

It’s absolutely a thinly veiled reason to go on a hunt, but it’s the same that Dean and Cas did weeks ago when Jack sneaked out. In the end they also ‘just’ took on a vampire nest with five vamps and their Creator and the rest of the time they had a blast in Vegas, why should Sam not do the same? He wants to be alone with Jack, because Dean definitely ruined the pleasant experience of the tantra massage. Sam had been so happy back then and oh, crap, he was close to do more to Jack than just the massage. He wouldn’t have slept with him on this massage table, that was utterly uncomfortable, but he had been turned on so bad, that didn’t happen very often.

Sam really falls for Jack deeply and seriously. It’s a wonderful and frightening feeling at the same time.

Jack slides on Sam’s lap and straddles him, arms tight around his neck. Jack squints a little when he’s so close, his big blue eyes will never cease to amaze Sam.

“How can you not be Castiel’s son?”, Sam blurts, his hands cupping the naphil’s face and brushing away some strands of hair.

Jack’s mouth opens slightly, his tongue sneaks out to lick his upper lip.

“I am Castiel’s son.”

“I know, I just mean, genetically. You have his eyes. Does that sound stupid, baby?”

Jack shakes his head with a grin, his neck and face turn tenderly pink.

How did the biggest monster of all create this perfect boy?

“No, not stupid. I like the way you look at me”, Jack silently admits and the blush turns berry red.

“How do I look at you?”

Sam kisses Jack’s parted lips, feels the hitched breath and how Jack tightens up his back.

“First you looked at me with fear, when I was born. Then you looked at me in sympathy, in worry… Then gentle, loving. Just now, longing… You see a man, not a child, right? That’s the look in your face how you look at someone beautiful you want to be with…?”

Sam’s big hands creep under Jack’s pullover and Jack sighs, a light shudder down his spine and this tiny, quiet noise of content.

“You are beautiful, and yes, I want to be with you. All the time”, Sam whispers, he sounds rough, feels like he needs to clear his throat.

Jack lays his hands on Sam’s and guides him down his sweatpants. Sam squeezes. A slight gasp.

“We will have a lot of time for fun stuff once we’re out of here.”

That makes Jack jerk up, jump and drag Sam on his feet.

“Come, Sam! I can’t wait to be out of here.”

[richincolor]

Voting and YA Lit

The November election is getting closer and closer. If you're eligible to vote and need more information, Vote.org is an excellent place to start. The League of Women Voters also has a First Time Voter Checklist that may be helpful. This year there may be additional challenges to voting, but if you are able, please let your voice be heard through your vote.

In the final two months before the election, you may enjoy some related reading. First, a few YA novels featuring elections or voting:

Yes No Maybe So by Becky Albertalli and Aisha Saeed Balzer + Bray [Group Discussion]

YES Jamie Goldberg is cool with volunteering for his local state senate candidate—as long as he’s behind the scenes. When it comes to speaking to strangers (or, let’s face it, speaking at all to almost anyone), Jamie’s a choke artist. There’s no way he’d ever knock on doors to ask people for their votes…until he meets Maya.

NO Maya Rehman’s having the worst Ramadan ever. Her best friend is too busy to hang out, her summer trip is canceled, and now her parents are separating. Why her mother thinks the solution to her problems is political canvassing—with some awkward dude she hardly knows—is beyond her.

MAYBE SO Going door to door isn’t exactly glamorous, but maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world. After all, the polls are getting closer—and so are Maya and Jamie. Mastering local activism is one thing. Navigating the cross-cultural romance of the century is another thing entirely.

The Voting Booth by Brandy Colbert Disney-Hyperion [Crystal's Review]

Marva Sheridan was born ready for this day. She’s always been driven to make a difference in the world, and what better way than to vote in her first election?

Duke Crenshaw is so done with this election. He just wants to get voting over with so he can prepare for his band’s first paying gig tonight.

Only problem? Duke can’t vote.

When Marva sees Duke turned away from their polling place, she takes it upon herself to make sure his vote is counted. She hasn’t spent months doorbelling and registering voters just to see someone denied their right. And that’s how their whirlwind day begins, rushing from precinct to precinct, cutting school, waiting in endless lines, turned away time and again, trying to do one simple thing: vote. They may have started out as strangers, but as Duke and Marva team up to beat a rigged system (and find Marva’s missing cat), it’s clear that there’s more to their connection than a shared mission for democracy.

Romantic and triumphant, The Voting Booth is proof that you can’t sit around waiting for the world to change, but some things are just meant to be.

Running by Natalia Sylvester Clarion Books

When fifteen-year-old Cuban American Mariana Ruiz’s father runs for president, Mari starts to see him with new eyes. A novel about waking up and standing up, and what happens when you stop seeing your dad as your hero—while the whole country is watching.

In this thoughtful, authentic, humorous, and gorgeously written novel about privacy, waking up, and speaking up, Senator Anthony Ruiz is running for president. Throughout his successful political career he has always had his daughter’s vote, but a presidential campaign brings a whole new level of scrutiny to sheltered fifteen-year-old Mariana and the rest of her Cuban American family, from a 60 Minutes–style tour of their house to tabloids doctoring photos and inventing scandals. As tensions rise within the Ruiz family, Mari begins to learn about the details of her father’s political positions, and she realizes that her father is not the man she thought he was.

But how do you find your voice when everyone’s watching? When it means disagreeing with your father—publicly? What do you do when your dad stops being your hero? Will Mari get a chance to confront her father? If she does, will she have the courage to seize it?

There are also a few YA nonfiction books that deal with activism and voting rights:

How I Resist edited by Maureen Johnson Wednesday Books

Now, more than ever, young people are motivated to make a difference in a world they're bound to inherit. They're ready to stand up and be heard - but with much to shout about, where they do they begin? What can I do? How can I help?

How I Resist is the response, and a way to start the conversation. To show readers that they are not helpless, and that anyone can be the change. A collection of essays, songs, illustrations, and interviews about activism and hope, How I Resist features an all-star group of contributors, including John Paul Brammer, Libba Bray, Lauren Duca, Modern Family's Jesse Tyler Ferguson and his husband Justin Mikita, Alex Gino, Hebh Jamal, Malinda Lo, Dylan Marron, Hamilton star Javier Muñoz, Rosie O'Donnell, Junauda Petrus, Jodi Picoult, Jason Reynolds, Karuna Riazi, Maya Rupert, Dana Schwartz, Dan Sinker, Ali Stroker, Jonny Sun (aka @jonnysun), Sabaa Tahir, Shaina Taub, Daniel Watts, Jennifer Weiner, Jacqueline Woodson, and more, all edited and compiled by New York Times bestselling author Maureen Johnson.

In How I Resist, readers will find hope and support through voices that are at turns personal, funny, irreverent, and instructive. Not just for a young adult audience, this incredibly impactful collection will appeal to readers of all ages who are feeling adrift and looking for guidance.

How I Resist is the kind of book people will be discussing for years to come and a staple on bookshelves for generations.

The March Trilogy by John Lewis, Andrew Aydin and Nate Powell Top Shelf Productions

A graphic novel memoir in three parts. It tells of the Civil Rights movement through the eyes of John Lewis. Readers see Lewis and other activists launching campaigns such as the Freedom Vote and Mississippi Freedom Summer. The books lead all the way through to the Selma March.

And finally, picture books aren't just for children. Here are two picture books young adults would likely appreciate:

The Voice of Freedom: Fannie Lou Hamer by Carole Boston Weatherford, illustrated by Ekua Holmes Candlewick Press

A stirring collection of poems and spirituals, accompanied by stunning collage illustrations, recollects the life of Fannie Lou Hamer, a champion of equal voting rights.

"I am sick and tired of being sick and tired."

Despite fierce prejudice and abuse, even being beaten to within an inch of her life, Fannie Lou Hamer was a champion of civil rights from the 1950s until her death in 1977. Integral to the Freedom Summer of 1964, Ms. Hamer gave a speech at the Democratic National Convention that, despite President Johnson’s interference, aired on national TV news and spurred the nation to support the Freedom Democrats. Featuring luminous mixed-media art both vibrant and full of intricate detail, Singing for Freedom celebrates Fannie Lou Hamer’s life and legacy with an inspiring message of hope, determination, and strength.

Granddaddy's Turn: A Journey to the Ballot Box by Michael S. Bandy & Eric Stein, illustrated by James Ransome Candlewick Press

Based on the true story of one family’s struggle for voting rights in the Civil Rights–era South, this moving tale shines an emotional spotlight on a dark facet of U.S. history.

Life on the farm with Granddaddy is full of hard work, but despite all the chores, Granddaddy always makes time for play, especially fishing trips. Even when there isn’t a bite to catch, he reminds young Michael that it takes patience to get what’s coming to you. One morning, when Granddaddy heads into town in his fancy suit, Michael knows that something very special must be happening—and sure enough, everyone is lined up at the town hall! For the very first time, Granddaddy is allowed to vote, and he couldn’t be more proud. But can Michael be patient when it seems that justice just can’t come soon enough? This powerful and touching true-life story shares one boy’s perspective of growing up in the segregated South, while beautiful illustrations depict the rural setting in tender detail.

[gaveherhearttotheliontattoo]

Title: Wrong Winchester Turned Right (Part IX)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Female)

Word Count: 2474

Warnings: Very brief mention of self-harm

Prompt: So not really a prompt, I was on Pinterest and I looked up fanfiction prompts and this popped up from a user who I can’t find the account of… Anyways reader jumps on the back of who she thought was her best friend in public but ends up quickly realizing her mistake.

Note: Holy moly has this been a long time coming! I hope y’all enjoy it, a lot of work went into this with the assistance of a beta reader. I’m not caught up on Season 13 yet so that’s why it’s not keeping up with the show. Hope you enjoy.

(Read Part I Here, Part II Here, Part III Here, Part IV Here, Part V Here, Part VI Here, Part VII Here, Part VIII Here)

--

“She’s still in her room,” JoAnn had said the minute she opened the door.

“Sam, can you stay with JoAnn while I go check in with Allison?”

After Sam led JoAnn towards the living room you found your way up the stairs and to the only closed door. You knocked but heard nothing. You tried the door handle and it turned slowly in your grip. As you pushed the door open you took in the view. The sun crept through the closed blinds, offering the only form of light in the dark room. You saw a shape on the bed and realized JoAnn might have overreacted. Perhaps Allison hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep and was knocked out cold. You pulled your phone out, turning the flashlight on to get a better look around.

You walked around the room and everything seemed in place. No clothes on the floor, no crooked papers, not even a single strand of hair in the brush. You kept turning until you got near the bed but you straightened when you saw the shape was no longer laying there. You moved towards the door, intending to escape, but the lights flicked on and the shape from the bed was standing in front of you in the shape of Allison Waters. Her eyes looked hollow and dark, her skin pale. She reminded you of-

“Well, well, aren’t you pretty. She’d like you.”

“Who would?” Your skin was crawling. Allison just continued to stare at you. “Allison, can you tell me what happened?”

Allison turned and left her room. What had just happened? Where was Allison going? Shaking yourself of those thoughts you followed Allison. You watched her walk out the back door towards the woods. You stopped at the edge of the woods. Your dream came back to you, and so did your past.

“(Y/N)!” You turned and found Sam running towards you. “What happened? Why are you out here?”

“Allison’s gone, she walked out in the woods. She looked sick.” You glanced back at the woods and then started walking back to the house with Sam. “Sam, remember how I said something about this case feels familiar and you basically shot me down?” Sam opened his mouth to interrupt but you held up your hand. “This isn’t an ‘I told you so’ moment but the way Allison looked, there was something about her appearance that struck me as something I’ve seen before.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t want to talk about it here. Let’s go talk with JoAnn and then head back to the motel.”

“Are you okay?”

“Sam, just, not now.”

------

Twenty minutes later Dean found you curled up on the bed facing the wall. He sat across from Sam who was scrolling through his computer.

“What happened?”

“We might have a lead but she’s been off since she watched Allison walk into the woods.” Sam closed his laptop. “She told me about her dream and everything that happened this morning. Nice bruise by the way.”

“She’s tough.” Dean pushed himself up and sat down behind you on the bed. “(Y/N), will you talk to me? What’s wrong?”

“(Y/S/N).”

Sam jumped up and moved to the other side of the bed kneeling in front of you. “What did you say?”

You looked at Sam, recognition flashed through his eyes. “She looked just like (Y/S/N). Sam it was like reliving the past.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean looked between you and Sam.

“(Y/S/N)-”

“(Y/S/N) was my sister.” You sat up and pulled your knees to your chest. “She was sixteen when she disappeared. I was only twelve but I knew what was going on. She was gone for a week and when she came back she wasn’t (Y/S/N) anymore. She hid in her room, stayed quiet, would disappear for hours before coming home and hiding in her room again. She was my big sister so I tried to spend time with her but she ignored me.

“One day I came home from school and found the house open, dark, and quiet. I don’t know what made me do it but I walked through the house. There wasn’t anything out of place so I thought someone just forgot to shut the door all the way but then I heard muffled crying coming from my parents’ room. I pushed the door open and found my sister standing over my father and my mother cradling his head in her lap. As my sister turned to look at my intrusion her eyes were dark and her mouth was covered in blood.”

You took a deep breath as the images of your father laying on the floor covered in blood and your mother crying over his lifeless body resurfaced. As you fought the tears you hugged your knees tighter and dropped your chin. You looked between the brothers and your heart constricted. The look of pain in their eyes nearly made you stop but you knew this was important to resolving this case.

“She killed him and then she used this extra long finger nail to slice my mother’s throat. I should have run but as I watched her kill our mother I snapped. I grabbed the item closest to me, which happened to be the candlesticks my parents got when they got married. When I hit my sister with it she hissed.” You laughed and shook your head. “She actually hissed. When she wrapped her hand around it to take it away she screamed and pulled her hand away, it was burned. I had no idea what the candlestick was made of. I had guessed steel or iron so I hit her again with it and ran. I went to the kitchen and grabbed whatever knife I thought I could use.”

“It’s like you were born to be a hunter,” Dean said.

You turned your eyes on him. “I never wanted this. I had no choice.”

“Sweetheart, none of us choose this life.” Dean chalked this up to just another thing the two of you had in common.

“I killed her.” You paused. “I killed my sister and then my mother because my sister turned her into whatever she was. I took off, ended up with Jody Mills, until I was eighteen. I tried to avoid the hunting scene but I couldn’t do it. For years I tried to find the bitch who turned my sister but I never could. I have a fear we’ve just found another one of her victims.”

“You never said how you came across Sam?”

“Jody.” You ruffled Sam’s long hair, smiling when he frowned. “Jody called me after everything happened with her family and she found the two of you. Somewhere down the road, when the two of you took your break, she connected us.”

“Do you know what this creature is?”

“I had initially given up but after meeting Sam I decided to pick up the research again. We thought it was a vampire, that’s where I got stuck initially, but it’s not. It’s like this cousin to the vampire, a Baobhan Sith. It’s a Scottish Folklore. Supposedly they only come out once a year to feed and only at night but I haven’t heard about anything that resembles her antics since everything happened with my sister. Well, until now that is.”

“What else do we know about this thing.”

“Men find the woman to be very attractive and she keeps them interested by asking them to dance. After that she goes for the kill. She kills women too but when she does that they become one. She prefers hunters. I’m sure that means animal hunters not us but it’s true. I didn’t see the beauty, but maybe that’s because I’m a woman. Finally, we can kill them with iron.”

“Great,” Dean said, happy to finally be getting some sort of lead. “What’s next?”

“I use myself as bait to lure her out.” 

Dean jumped up and glared at you. “Are you crazy?” Recognizing those weren’t the best choice of words he crossed his arms and looked at Sam, then you. “There is no way we can let you do that. You could get yourself killed!”

“I already talked to Sam about it, and besides it is neither of your choice to make.” You swung your legs over the side of the bed and stood up. Sam stood up, stuffing his hands in his pockets. You looked between the brothers. “This is my fight and I’ll do it with or without your support.”

You walked out of the motel. There was a park only a few minutes down the road and you figured you could find a comfortable place to think without the sulking Winchester Brothers around. Who were they to tell you what you could or couldn’t do with your life? This was your battle. You were the only one of the three with a real connection to this case.

When you got to the park you took a seat on a bench and pulled out your phone. It hadn’t stopped buzzing since you walked out of the motel room. You shut it down and surveyed your surroundings. You saw kids being pushed on the swings, the giggles filled the air around you. You watched parents running with their kids, holding their infants close. The world kept turning. None of them knew of the monsters lurking in the shadows, the monsters hiding in the forests, and you wish you didn’t know either.

------

Dean tossed his phone at the wall, turning as it shattered. What did he need it for, it’s not like you were actually going to answer his calls.

“That was stupid,” Sam mutters.

Dean turns to him, arms crossed over his chest. “No this plan is stupid!” Dean raked his fingers through his hair. If he pulled any harder he would be bald before he went to bed. “I’m going out there.”

Sam stepped in front of the door, using what little extra height he had to try and intimidate Dean. “And doing what?”

“I can’t just let her go out there alone. Jesus, Sammy, she’s… I… She means a lot to me. If anything happens to her I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself, ever.”

“Go get her, tell her we support her, but that we want to work this out first before anyone does anything rash.” Sam stepped away from the door. “Then maybe when we kill this thing you two can stop dancing around each other.”

Dean shrugged his jacket on, pocketed his wallet, and snatched his keys off the end table. Shit. “I shattered my phone, she turned hers off, how am I supposed to find her?”

“Look for the nearest park first.”

Dean didn’t bother asking why, instead he left the motel, hoping he wasn’t too late. He’d told you he liked you but he was falling fast and deep. You’d only known each other for a couple of weeks but it didn’t seem to stop him from hoping for more, a lot more.

------

You kicked your legs out, back, out. The swing rose higher. But no matter how high you got  you always came back down, and right there was the forest. It was like it was calling to you every time you stared at it.

“If you swing any higher you’re going to fall on your head.”

You drag your feet through the gravel, stopping the swing. “How’d you find me?”

Dean dropped onto the swing next to you, twisting to look at you. “Sammy suggested the park.”

“Kid’s been around me too long.”

“If you’re going to do this-”

“There’s no if, Dean.”

“Would you just let me finish?” Dean stared at you, waiting for you to answer. After you gave a slight nod he continued. “If you’re going to do this, we’ll support you, but we’re going to do this as a team.”

You’d been prepared for a fight. They’d both been so upset when you left, but here Dean was, trusting you. Your heart fluttered and you resisted the urge to place a hand over it, instead reaching out for Dean’s hand. “This means a lot to me.”

Dean looked at your hand. The act had been so simple, yet intimate. His heart kicked up a notch and he wasn’t sure how to handle that response so he stood up, pulling you with him. “We should get back before Sammy starts to worry, but before we get back I need to make a pit stop for a burner.”

“What happened to your phone?”

“I may have gotten a little angry.”

“I was in a dark place, for a long time.” You hesitated. Glancing up you found Dean’s emerald eyes soft, welcoming. “When I couldn’t find the person responsible for all of this I started to blame myself so I turned to self-harm. One day Jody caught me struggling to bandage myself up, but rather than ask me questions and judge me she finished bandaging me up and gave me a hug. I started to see someone who knew the world and helped me start working through some stuff. I met Sam only after a few sessions and I thought I was okay, but researching again reopened the wound and I got in my head. Sam found me one night on the bathroom floor and took me to the hospital to get bandaged up. Sam made sure I went back to my therapist, but since all of this has started I haven’t been able to go see them. I could always call or text but it’s been busy.”

Dean stared at you. He’d always considered you tough, strong, but he found your resiliency even brighter now. His hands were reaching for you before he knew what he was doing. He pulled you into his arms and sighed as you wrapped your arms around him. Dean whispered, “You’re stronger than you know.”

You pulled back, putting your hands in his. “Thank you. Not something I like to bring attention to.”

Dean leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Sighing, you held onto Dean’s hand as you walked to the closest store and picked up a new burner as well as a few snacks. You continued hand in hand to the motel room, Dean squeezing tight as you walked into the room and found Sammy scowling at his computer. 

“I’m going to lose my mind over this case. (Y/N), I need more information on this,” Sam paused and stared at the screen, “Baobhan Sith. Whatever else you can give me that you found in the past or remember because based off of what I’m finding, this creature shouldn’t be around for another 70 or so years.”

[bewareofchris]

Nostalgia and the Doctor

I’m not particularly well known for being a bit Doctor Who fan so lets get a few base Doctor Who judgements out of the way so that anyone who might not agree with these Christopher Truths can leave now:

- Doctor Who is by far not nearly as awe-inspiring as the fans might try to sell it.  I love it and I try to get everyone to watch it with me but I’m also very honest and very upfront about it.  Most of the solutions to the issues are silly.  Most of the problems are a little silly.  In fact, for the first 3/4 episodes you watch, regardless of where you start, there’s a good deal of silliness but you will find yourself, absolutely with no warning, unable to stop because you love the Doctor so stupidly you have no control over it.

- I started with David Tennant/the 10th Doctor and I loved him violently and remembered him with utmost fondness and considered him my favorite and would have killed a man for him.  I judged the success and failures of all other Doctors by him until I rewatched the New Who.

- 10′s like 4-part victory lap at the end of his tenure had moments that broke my heart so deeply I still haven’t ever rewatched them.  So fuck you David Tennant and your saddest face.

- I’ve never seen Christopher Eccelston’s Doctor and don’t have any plans to.  I don’t particularly care for that actor and I’ll take no criticism.

- Rose is my least favorite companion out of the seasons I’ve watched except maybe 13′s.

- 11 is probably my favorite story/Doctor/Companions and that’s got a lot to do with how bright and sweet and idiotic he was as the Doctor.  I found his boundless, unrestrained enthusiasm for everything good and bad to be absolutely beautiful.  Also, I adore River Song.

- I absolutely adore River Song

- I unashamedly love how horny on main everyone was for 11 and how horrified he always seemed to be by it (unless he wasn’t)

- Peter Capaldi/12 was too good for this world and doesn’t get enough credit.  Also he got fucked by the storylines they gave him really limiting his ability to be his own thing.  Did anyone in the world want that many two part episodes?  No.  No we didn’t.  Sometimes we just want to travel into a little boy’s cupboard to fight nightmares ok.

- Listen, the episode with the thing that may or may not be a monster, was an amazing fucking episode and I loved every minute.

- Donna was 10′s best Companion.

- Bill deserved better.

- Chris Chibnall was hands down the worst possible person to have been selected to run the show.  Based solely off of viewing Broadchurch with it’s meandering pacing and it’s beautifully morose tone, there was 0 chance he could have pulled off the vibe required to captain a campy sci-fi family show.

- Its absolutely criminal what they did Jodie Whittaker’s 13th Doctor

And most importantly, the thing that has brought me to making this post, Russell T Davies belongs in the past.  The entire New Who fandom/success can certainly extend it’s heartfelt thanks to the man and his successful reinvigoration of the show.  We can forever be grateful that he brought together something that was truly captivating, that drew in audiences and allowed us to have these many years of adventures with the various incarnations of the Doctor.

What we should not do is get caught in the trap of thinking that resurrecting this out of date dinosaur is going to save the show now.  Russel T Davies’ Who and Torchwood are both a product of their time and are best viewed through the rose-colored glasses of nostalgia.  

We were all younger then, all of us captivated by this thing that was new and vibrant (well, I mean, Davies’ who had quality issues because of its limited budget but you get my drift).  We were taken in by 10′s severity, his grandiosity, his arrogance, his curiosity and most importantly that scene when he fell through the open window like a partially cooked spaghetti noodle.  (Or maybe that was just me.)  

David Tennant has something about his acting and his portrayal of the Doctor (and really anyone) that just draws you in.  His charm undercuts everything he does so that even when you really kind of shouldn’t like him, you’re still kind of rooting for him and that might have been the most important factor of 10/New Who’s success.

That does not mean, however, that if we take the same set up and the same vibe and the same stories and the same writers and the same showrunner that we had then and ask them to fix the dreary, over-serious, righteous nonsense of Chibnall’s joyless time as showrunner that it will work out how we want.

Every article I’ve seen is praising this choice to call Davies back, like he’s the one that’s going to finally get us back to where we were all happy and excited to see new episodes instead of turning off the holiday special 5 times and still not having finished it (yes, i’m talking about me) but I don’t buy it.  Davies belongs in the past, where we can go and watch his episodes and think about how much simpler life was then because that’s how nostalgia works.

If Who is going to succeed, and it’s going to really resonate with the current audience and pull in younger fans, it has to do so by moving forward.  By finding someone who loves Who, and understands that TV shows (especially ones involving Time Lords who regenerate into new faces every so often) have to move forward with the present time.  You need a show runner that is younger, that has new ideas, that has the energy and the drive to make something truly imaginative and truly great.

Nostalgia is cheap, and it never lasts.